The Diary of Clarissa Moriarty
by CeliaEquus
Summary: Clarissa is the daughter of James and John Moriarty. Her innocence has protected her from the reality of her parents' Bonding. That innocence will be stripped away as she comes closer to the truth of her Papa's profession, and her Daddy's wish for freedom. See inside for warnings. Disclaimer: I don't own 'Sherlock', nor am I making any money from this.
1. First Entry

**Warning: There will be references to past non-con/dub-con situations during the course of this story. This is partly due to the nature of Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, and partly to the nature of the Alpha in question. There will be no explicit sex scenes, as this is from the point-of-view of a seven-year-old girl, using the medium of her diary. Most references will be obscure, but there nonetheless. A lot of angst here as well, folks.**

"First Entry"

Hi!

My name is Clarissa Angel Moriarty. My Daddy gave me this diary because he says that I'm too young to write a blog. But I'm seven years old now, and I know what a blog is. But Daddy knows best. And Papa agrees with him, which Daddy doesn't always like, but he says it's a miracle. I know what a miracle is. It's when your wish comes true.

I have to write about myself first. That's what Bastian told me. He's my big brother. He is 12 years old, and his real name is Sebastian, but that's the name of Papa's friend, so we call him Bastian. I'm not named after anybody. Daddy said that my middle name is ironic. I don't know what that means. Daddy said I will when I'm older.

Daddy is a doctor, and he used to be in the army. His first name is John, but I can't remember his last name. Papa is a businessman. That's what everyone tells me, but I don't know what his business is. He dresses in nice suits, and his name is Jim. I think his real name is James, but nobody really calls him that.

I'm an Omega, and Bastian is a Beta. Daddy is an Omega, and Papa is an Alpha. We don't have any pets, but I wish we did sometimes.

Bastian doesn't know what I have to write next. He said I should just start writing about my day now, so I will.

First, I tried to make Daddy breakfast in bed, because he's getting bigger now that he's got my new baby brother or sister growing inside him. Bastian helped me make toast and he cut up the apple. I poured juice, because we can't make tea yet. Daddy was sick again, so Papa said thank you but he would find something for Daddy.

Uncle Sherlock rang on the phone after breakfast. I talked to him for ages. Papa doesn't like it when Uncle Sherlock rings, but Daddy doesn't like Uncle Sebastian, so that makes it quits. Then Bastian talked to Uncle Sherlock while I went to find Daddy and Papa.

They were arguing again. (I'm checking the dictionary, because Uncle Sherlock doesn't like spelling mistakes. He won't read my diary, though.) I'll write as much as I can remember. Papa says I have a very good memory.

"You said that Bastian would get the best education in England," Daddy said. He was sitting on the bed, and Papa was standing behind him.

"He will," Papa said.

"This school is the best—"

"It's a boarding school, John. We would have to send him away."

"He should meet more boys his age! You get him brought straight home from school every day, and he never spends time with anyone else. I wonder that he has any friends at all. He can't spend all his free time at home."

"He's safe here."

"Yes," Daddy said. "From _your_ enemies."

Papa scowled.

"Do you want him to get hurt?"

"He won't be in any more danger there than he is at his current school."

"Is that the only reason?"

Daddy looked up, but not at Papa.

"What are you talking about?" he said.

"The real reason you want him to go. He reminds you of me. If he goes, you'll leave and take Clarissa with you. That's what it is, isn't it?"

"What? No!" Daddy turned around, and I couldn't see his face anymore. "Of course not. This is her home, and there's the baby to consider." Papa still didn't look happy, but he never does when they are arguing. "But do I want my freedom? Of course I do. You stole… _everything_ from me, at the pool."

"Here we go again," Papa said, rolling his eyes.

I crept away then. I didn't want them to see me. Papa doesn't like me listening to grown-ups when they don't know I'm there. I don't like it when they yell at each other.

Bastian was still talking to Uncle Sherlock. I said that Daddy and Papa were arguing, so Uncle Sherlock said that he would call back later. I sat next to Bastian.

"Was it about school again?" he asked me.

"Yes," I said.

"I don't want to leave you."

"Me neither."

"'Neither do I', Clarissa."

"Sorry, Bastian."

"At least Uncle Sherlock isn't here."

I giggled. Bastian doesn't giggle, but he did smile. Then he looked sad again.

"Do you think Dad loves me?" he said. He calls Daddy 'Dad', and he calls Papa 'Father'. I hope it isn't confusing.

"Of course he does," I said. "Why wouldn't he?"

"He wants me to go away."

"But he said that it's so you can learn more than you already do. Don't you want to be a doctor like Daddy?"

"Yeah, but it's not just that."

"What do you mean?"

Bastian sighed.

"Sometimes grown-ups talk about how Dad and Father made me. That Dad didn't want me, but that I came along anyway, and he had to stay with Father."

"Don't they want to be Bonded?" I said.

"I don't know. I think it's one of those things we don't know until we're older."

Then Papa came into the room, and Bastian told him Uncle Sherlock rang. Papa made a face, and then Daddy came in, and said he would call Uncle Sherlock back. Papa said that Daddy could do whatever he wanted, and went to work. Daddy asked me if he could speak with Bastian alone, and so that's why I'm writing. If I don't write any more today, I will write more tomorrow.

* * *

**I ****hope the child-like language won't be too jarring. I'll try to reveal what I can of how Jim and John got together, and whatever else is going on. Meanwhile, to recap:**

**Clarissa Moriarty, the narrator through her diary, 7 years old**

**Bastian Moriarty, her older brother, 12 years old**

**Dr. John Moriarty, nee Watson, their Omega father, Bonded and married to Jim, called Daddy or Dad**

**James 'Jim' Moriarty, their Alpha father, Bonded and married to John, called Papa or Father**

**Sherlock Holmes, Clarissa and Bastian's 'Uncle Sherlock', friend of John**

**Sebastian Moran, friend/employee of Jim, Clarissa and Bastian's 'Uncle Sebastian'**

**There'll be other characters, of course, such as 'Uncle Greg', 'Sergeant Sally', and so on.**

**Please review!**


	2. Second Entry

"Second Entry"

Hi!

I should write more about my family now. Daddy and Papa met a long time ago. They Bonded the same day, which I think is romantic. That's how it happens in fairy stories.

When Daddy told me about what Alphas, Betas, and Omegas are, I asked him how he met Papa. Daddy didn't answer me right away. Then he said that they saw each other at the hospital where I was born. Bastian, too. Then that night, he and Papa were at a swimming pool when Daddy began to feel funny. Papa made him better, and they Bonded. Then Bastian was born. He didn't say why they were at the pool at night.

It's funny, but not happy funny. Weird funny. After Papa and Daddy Bonded, Daddy went back to stay with Uncle Sherlock. They were living at Uncle Sherlock's house in Baker Street. After Bastian was born, Papa took Bastian and Daddy to his home.

Bastian doesn't remember it, but he remembers that Daddy and Uncle Sherlock said that it happened with him, because Daddy did the same thing with me. And after I was born, Papa took us home. Daddy is still here even though he is carrying a baby again. I hope that's a good thing. I don't want to leave Papa behind.

Now I'll write about what happened today.

Bastian is still here. Papa and Daddy haven't talked to each other in front of us. Daddy talked to Uncle Sherlock on the phone after he talked to Bastian. I had to go to school today. When we got home, Daddy said that Uncle Sherlock sent his love to Bastian and me. I think it's 'Bastian and me'. I'll ask Uncle Sherlock.

Papa helps people, but he doesn't talk about his day during dinner. Daddy eats weird things at the moment. He says that the baby is making him do it.

Papa lets me sit on his knees when we watch the news on the TV. I don't watch it. I like to do puzzles in the books Papa buys for me. Bastian was doing his homework on the floor, and Daddy was watching all of us and the TV.

"One of yours?" he said, looking at Papa. I didn't see what was on the news, so it didn't make any sense.

"Do you expect me to say yes?" Papa said. Daddy snorted.

"No," he said. "No, of course not." Then his face all scrunched up and he touched his tummy.

"Is there a problem?" Papa said.

"No," Daddy said.

"But you look like something's hurting, Daddy," I said. Bastian turned around.

"Dad?" he said.

"I'm fine!" Daddy said.

"No, you're not," Papa said. "Excuse me, Clarissa." Then he lifted me up, stood up, and put me back on his seat. It was warm, and smelt like Papa.

"What are you doing?" Daddy asked.

"Just stay there," Papa said, and he got down on his knees beside Daddy. Then he began to stroke Daddy's tummy, and Daddy almost looked happy. He made a small noise and sank into his chair. Bastian grinned at me, and went back to his homework. I started another puzzle. But I kept looking at Papa and Daddy. Daddy's eyes were closed, but Papa was looking at him. Bastian told me that he could see Papa smiling from a mile away, but that's silly. It was only two and a half yards. And Bastian was using the TV screen to look at them, like using a mirror.

Papa sighed, and I looked at him. Then he kissed Daddy's tummy, and kept rubbing it. Daddy's eyes opened, and he tried to stand up. Papa tried to make him stay, but Daddy said no, so Papa helped him up. Then Daddy left the room, and Papa looked cross.

"I wish he'd stop—" Papa stopped talking, and he sat where Daddy had been sitting. I saw Papa hold Daddy's cushion against his nose. It made him look a little bit better. But he always looks happier when Daddy is here.

"What happened?" Bastian asked.

"Nothing," Papa said. "Absolutely nothing."

Lies make me sad, but then grown-ups tell lies all the time. They do it to make us feel better. I know that, because Daddy told me, and so did Papa.

It makes me sad when Papa is sad, too. So I went and sat in his lap again. He held me very tightly.

"Don't worry, Papa," I said. "You know Daddy loves us."

Papa nodded. "I know he loves you."

Daddy usually tucks us in at bedtime, but Papa did tonight. He says that I can write in bed, but only for a little while. I don't know how long a little while is.

"Are you and Daddy sending Bastian away to school?" I said. Papa sat down next to me and stroked my hair. He likes stroking my hair. He says it's because it's the same colour as Daddy's hair.

"I don't think so, Clarissa," he said. "We'll have to wait and see. _You'll_ have to wait and see." He poked me on the nose. It always makes me giggle.

"You love Bastian, don't you, Papa?"

"Of course I do. I love both of you."

"Bastian thinks Daddy doesn't love him."

Papa frowned, and his lips went thin and white. "Why does he think that?" I shrugged. "I'll talk to Daddy. I know he loves Bastian just as much as he loves you."

"And you."

Papa still didn't look happy. I think it was because of what I said about Bastian. He kissed me on the top of my head, then finished tucking me in.

"Good night, my angel," he said. I pulled him down and kissed his cheek.

"Good night, Papa."

Then he left, and it's time for me to stop writing and go to sleep now.

* * *

**How does a seven year old finish a diary entry? Hmm. Of course, Clarissa has above average intelligence, and so does Bastian. I tried to keep a diary when I was younger, but I kept losing interest. Oops. Now I use author notes and Facebook to record my frivolous activities.**

**Please review!**


	3. Third Entry

"Third Entry"

Hi!

Papa goes out to work almost every day most of the time. But sometimes he stays at home and works in his study. Daddy doesn't go in there. He goes out to his clinic. That's where sick people go when they don't have a lot of money. We have a lot of money, but Daddy usually fixes us. Bastian gets hurt more, and Papa doesn't like it, but Daddy says that it's part of being a boy. Sometimes I fall over, but Daddy says I won't fall as much when I grow up.

I miss them when they go away. Three times a year, Papa takes Daddy away. He missed the last time. I asked Papa why.

"Because I take Daddy on holiday when he's… not feeling well," he said. "Like the night we Bonded. Daddy needs me to look after him. Sometimes, when an Alpha makes an Omega feel better, the Omega can become pregnant."

"Like with Bastian?" I asked.

"And you, my angel. Now that Daddy's pregnant, we don't need a holiday."

"Oh," I said. "Okay."

I have three friends at school. Their names are: Rachel, May, and Jolinda. Rachel has blonde hair, like me, and she does horse-riding. I haven't met her pony. His name is Sam. She said that it's short for his show name, which is Southampton McCoy. May is an exchange student from China. She plays four different instruments. One of those instruments is the clarinet. Daddy used to play clarinet. Jolinda's auntie works for Papa, I think. Nobody tells me what she does. Jolinda thinks that she answers telephones, but she doesn't know anything else.

My friends have not slept over yet. Papa says that I'm not old enough, and he doesn't want Daddy to get too tired because it's not good for the baby. But my room is big enough. We could all sleep on the floor. When Auntie Harry stays with us, she sleeps in the guest room. Bastian and I have to go to bed early when Auntie Harry sleeps over. I think she comes to our home so that Daddy can fix her, because she never looks well, and she never calls first. But Papa doesn't get angry about it. Daddy asked why he didn't once.

"She's your sister, John," he said. "That she knows she can come here to sleep off the drink makes me happy. It shows that she knows we're her family."

I don't know what Daddy said, because it was too quiet. I don't know if he said anything at all. But Papa smiled nearly all day and the next day.

Uncle Sherlock called again today.

"Uncle Greg is bringing you back to Baker Street after school on Friday," Uncle Sherlock said. "Did Daddy tell you that Uncle Greg is picking you up after the swimming carnival?"

"Yes, Uncle Sherlock," I said. Every year our school has a swimming carnival. It's like sports day, except at the pool. I'm not very good at the harder strokes. But I'm in a relay team with my friends, and I'm really good at freestyle. I came in fourth last year, and Bastian came in second in butterfly and backstroke. He's really good at swimming. Papa's very proud of us, and he had a prize cupboard made. We put our ribbons in there. Bastian wants to be in a swimming club, and then he could win medals and cups, but Papa worries about us.

Anyway. I talked to Uncle Sherlock, and told him that I would be wearing the bright green swimming cap that Uncle Sebastian bought for me. Bastian has a splodgy-rainbow cap. That's so Daddy can see us in the pictures. He is always busy when there is a swimming carnival. Papa says that Daddy doesn't like swimming. I once asked Daddy why he wouldn't like swimming when he and Papa Bonded at a pool. Daddy didn't answer my question. Not properly. I think it's one of those grown-up things.

"Who's on the phone, Clarissa?" Papa said.

"It's Uncle Sherlock," I said.

"I see. May I speak with Uncle Sherlock?"

"I want to talk to J— your daddy," Uncle Sherlock said.

"He wants to talk to Daddy," I told Papa. Papa didn't look pleased.

"I'll find him," he said.

When he came back with Daddy, I could hear them talking before I saw them. They sounded angry. I hate it when they're angry.

"Phone for you, Daddy," I said.

"I know, angel," Daddy said.

"Bye-bye, Uncle Sherlock," I said into the phone. "See you on Friday."

"You shall, Clarissa. Good night."

I gave Daddy the phone, and let Papa pick me up. He took me into the kitchen, and asked me what I wanted for dinner.

Sometimes I wonder whether Daddy knows that he and Papa both call me their angel.

I'm in bed now. Bastian came to say goodnight. He doesn't usually. We say goodnight before we brush our teeth. But he's just left.

"Dad said that he does love me," Bastian said. He sat next to me. "He said that he doesn't always show it because I'm so stoic." (I had to look up the spelling in the dictionary. Bastian helped me, because he wasn't sure what it meant as well.) "He said he still loves me as much as he loves you."

"Of course he does, Bastian," I said. Bastian hugged me, and I think he started to fall asleep until Daddy and Papa came in to say goodnight. That was odd, too. Papa kissed me on the nose, told me goodnight, and took Bastian back to his room. Daddy read me a chapter from my Mr. Pinkwhistle book.

"Goodnight, Clarissa," he said after he put the book on my bedside table.

"Did you have a nice talk with Uncle Sherlock?" I asked. Daddy looked strange.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I did. I always do."

"But you miss not working with him, don't you?"

"I'll be able to go back to that after this baby's out in a few months' time," Daddy said. He let me touch his tummy. It's not as soft as it usually is. That must be the baby.

"You can go back to solving puzzles?" Not like the puzzles I solve, though. These are real ones, Uncle Sherlock says.

"Yes, I can," Daddy said. "And much more. After the baby is born."

"Good," I said. "You always smile more when you've been out with Uncle Sherlock. Like the way Papa smiles at you when you go on holiday."

Daddy looked a little sad. But he smiled when he kissed me goodnight, and told me not to write too late. Then he left.

Now it's time to stop writing again. I can't wait to write about Friday!

* * *

**Daw! Clarissa can be such a cutie-pie. And poor John and Jim.**

**Revealing more history and dynamics as I go along. Does it all seem too rushed? Bearing in mind that I'm trying to write this from the perspective of a seven-year-old child, especially the daughter of Jim Moriarty. Good Lord. Could you imagine? Damn good thing that her other parent is John Watson.**

…**Terrible excuse, isn't it? Writing the story like this? If this story is fairly successful, I may end up writing a prequel from John's perspective, and maybe Jim's.**

**Since I've neglected to do so yet, thanks must go out to donnabella2k7, who has read each chapter as it's been written, provided encouragement, and helped me develop plot ideas for this story, as well as its prequel and sequel.**


	4. Fourth Entry

"Fourth Entry"

Hi!

Today was really exciting! We had the swimming carnival, and then Uncle Sherlock came with Uncle Greg to pick us up.

Uncle Sherlock and Uncle Greg are different, because Uncle Sherlock is a Beta and Uncle Greg is an Alpha, and Betas and Alphas can't Bond the same way Alphas and Omegas can. Uncle Greg used to be married, but his wife never Bonded with him. I guess it's another grown-up thing. But Uncle Greg and Uncle Sherlock love each other very much, and they live together in a flat at Baker Street. Auntie Mrs. Hudson lives there, too. I don't know her first name. Everybody calls her Mrs. Hudson. She looks after them.

Uncle Greg is a policeman, and sometimes Uncle Sherlock and Daddy work with him. Daddy can't because of the baby. There are a lot of things Daddy can't do because of the baby. But he can still hug and kiss us, and Papa says that that's the most important thing of all. I think he's right.

Auntie Mrs. Hudson made sure that Bastian and I had towels so that we could both have a shower. Uncle Sherlock played his violin. Uncle Greg made us snacks. Then we told them all about the day. Uncle Sherlock doesn't like sport much, but Uncle Greg does, and he told us all about when he was at school.

I made Uncle Sherlock have some food, too, because Daddy always says that Uncle Sherlock doesn't eat enough. Then Uncle Sherlock asked me to show him what I remembered from our last lesson.

He's teaching me all sorts of useful things, and Uncle Greg says that he shouldn't be teaching me how to pick pockets, but Uncle Sherlock says that it could come in handy. I asked Uncle Sherlock why he hadn't noticed that I had taken Uncle Greg's police card from him. Then Uncle Greg showed that he still had his warrant card, and I said that I took the one Uncle Sherlock had.

Uncle Sherlock was surprised, but he said that he was pleased about it.

"She takes after her father right enough," Uncle Greg said. He raised his eyebrows when Uncle Sherlock looked at him. Uncle Sherlock waved a hand.

"Moriarty would never go to the trouble of picking pockets," he said. But then Uncle Greg told him to be quiet, and said that it was nearly time to leave. He dried my hair for me while Uncle Sherlock talked about school with Bastian. I couldn't hear most of it, because of the hairdryer.

When we got home, it was nearly dinnertime, and Daddy asked if Uncle Greg and Uncle Sherlock wanted to stay. They said no, but maybe another time. They both kissed me on the cheek and hugged Bastian, and then they went away.

"Hi!" Papa called. He came down the hallway to us. "How did you do?"

Bastian told me to go first, and I pulled my ribbons out.

"Look!" I said. "We came in first in the relay, and I got second place for freestyle." I held out my ribbons.

"Well done, Clarissa baby," Papa said. Daddy hugged me and told me congratulations, too.

"Bastian, tell them," I said, and I kicked him. Not hard, but I couldn't poke him because I was too far away.

"How did you do, son?" Papa asked. Bastian's cheeks went pink.

"Came in second place for backstroke again," he said. "But…" He'd been practising this with Uncle Greg, and he pulled out his blue ribbon. "I won the butterfly."

Daddy and Papa were so proud of him. So am I. I hope I can win a race all by myself someday, just like Bastian. But maybe not in swimming. I don't know.

"Well, this calls for a special treat on the weekend," Papa said, and he picked me up. We all went into the dining room, and he made Daddy sit down. "Where would you like to go? Anywhere you want."

"Can we see a movie?" Bastian asked.

"Or go to the zoo," I said.

"Or the Tower of London," Bastian said.

"Then we could go to Tower Bridge," I said.

"Yeah!"

"Can we go to the Tower of London and the bridge, Papa?" I said.

"Can we, Father?" Bastian said.

"I'll have to stay home," Daddy said. "I can't do that much walking around. But you go ahead. Maybe Sherlock and Greg can keep me company?"

Papa went kind of still where he was standing behind Daddy's chair. Then he continued to walk towards the kitchen door.

"Just as long as they don't drag you around London, when you're supposed to be avoiding that kind of stress," Papa said.

"Of course not. We can talk, watch a bit of telly, call the sports commentators idiots. It'll be just like the old days."

Papa nodded. "Of course. You know they're welcome to come here to see you. Just mind you don't get involved in any of their cases. You're supposed to be resting. It's getting close to the due date now."

"I know that," Daddy said crossly. "I'm the one carrying this baby."

"Don't yell at each other," Bastian said. Now he looked mad. Papa sighed.

"Sorry, Bastian," he said. "I'll get dinner. What do you want to drink?"

"Just some juice," I said. Papa knows my favourite.

"Me too, please," Bastian said. "We've had enough of water today, haven't we, Clarissa?"

I giggled. "That we have."

When you're Bonded to someone, you can tell where they are whenever they're close by. I can tell with Daddy and Papa. They always know, without looking at each other. But with Uncle Sherlock and Uncle Greg, they always know, too. They look at each other a lot more, though. And they smile at each other a lot more. Maybe they need to do that because they can't Bond, and Daddy and Papa don't need to because they're Bonded.

Anyway. I have to stop writing now so that I can have lots of sleep. It's going to be a big day tomorrow, and I might be too tired to write. We always go shopping on Sunday, so I'll write then, because nothing ever happens to us on a Sunday.

* * *

**Anyone remember John's line in 'A Study in Pink'? Dare I hint that there be dire things ahead for the Moriartys?**

…**I'll just shut up now.**

**Please review!**


	5. Fifth Entry

"Fifth Entry"

Hi!

I love Daddy and Papa. They're the most wonderful people in the world. And Bastian. I'll tell you why.

Yesterday we went to Tower Hill. But today we went shopping, and that's when all the exciting things happened.

On Sundays, Daddy takes Bastian and me shopping. It was mostly food, but I needed new pencils, Bastian wanted a new notebook, and I saw some pretty stickers. I'm going to put them in my diary when I have time. Not now. It's getting very late, but I have to write this all down before I forget.

We had just left the supermarket when a big black car stopped in front of us. Daddy went still, and Bastian nearly ran into him. Daddy was holding my hand, and he gripped harder.

"Dad?" Bastian said. "What's wrong?"

"Something not good," Daddy said. A tall man with dark red hair got out of the car. He had an umbrella. I recognised him.

"Doesn't he know Uncle Sherlock?" I said. I'd seen a picture before. Daddy nodded.

"Mycroft," he said as the man walked up to us.

"John," the man said. "How wonderful to see you again. It has been far too long."

I didn't like him. His smile was all wrong. Then he looked at Bastian and me.

"My children, Sebastian and Clarissa," Daddy said. He pulled me behind him. "What do you want, Mycroft?"

"Won't you step into the car, John? Your children are welcome to come with us."

"I don't think we will, thank you."

"Dr. Watson—"

"Moriarty," Bastian said. Mr. Mycroft looked at him. "His name is John Moriarty."

Mr. Mycroft smiled again. "Of course. My mistake. Dr. _Moriarty_, you seem to be under the impression that you have a choice."

"And you seem to be under the impression that just because I'm pregnant, I'm weak," Daddy said. He was holding me tighter now. I had to look around him to see Mr. Mycroft. "Go away."

"That would not be in your best interests," Mr. Mycroft said. I felt all cold when he looked at me. "Or your children's best interests. I am sure that you would prefer—"

"Does he want to take us away?" I asked. I'm not supposed to interrupt, but Bastian did, and I didn't care what Mr. Mycroft thought.

He bowed his head. "It is my intention to take you and your… Daddy into safe-keeping. You will be much happier away from your other father."

"No!" I said, shaking my head. "I don't want to leave Papa."

"You heard her," Daddy said. He didn't look away from Mr. Mycroft. "Leave, Mycroft."

Mr. Mycroft sighed. "I anticipated this." He waved his hand, and three big men climbed out of the car. They came closer to us.

"You can't kidnap us!" Bastian shouted. There weren't many people around. There never are when we shop. If there were, they could have helped us.

"Kidnapping is such an overused term, with such negative connotations," Mr. Mycroft said. (I had to look up the word 'connotations' in my dictionary to spell it.) "Master Sebastian—"

"You can't do this," Bastian said. Then he ran away. Daddy called for him, but he can't run very fast at the moment, and he was still holding me. The big men were getting closer, and Mr. Mycroft was still smiling his horrible smile. It reminded me of a shark.

"We will find him," he said. "Come along now, Dr. Moriarty, Clarissa."

"Only my family and friends get to use my name," I said, frowning my hardest at him.

"Very well, Miss Moriarty. You will be well looked after. You will be staying with my bro—"

"Here they are, Father!"

Daddy and I turned around when we heard Bastian. There was a man wearing a hoodie with him, and he took off the hood. And it was Papa! He ran to our side and pulled out a gun. I didn't know that he had one. Then he aimed it at Mr. Mycroft.

"Get the hell away from my family," he said. (I don't like swearing, but it's what he said, so I have to write it.)

"You are not in a position to make demands," Mr. Mycroft said. Papa growled.

"I think you'll find that I am," he said. "Tell your men to get in the car and drive around the corner."

"What makes you think that I will follow your orders?"

"Because I'll put a bullet through your head if I see any of them so much as reach for a pocket."

Mr. Mycroft didn't say anything for nearly a whole minute. He kept looking at Daddy. Then he nodded, waved his hand again, and the big men got back into the car. Then it went away, and Papa didn't move until we couldn't see it anymore. Then he lowered the gun, and walked up to Mr. Mycroft. And then he grabbed his throat. Mr. Mycroft looked surprised, and dropped his umbrella.

"If you _ever_ approach my family again," Papa said, "I will _rip_ your _head_ off."

Mr. Mycroft didn't say anything again. He nodded, and Papa let him go. Then he picked up his umbrella and walked away, and Papa put his gun back into his hoodie pocket.

"James?" Daddy said. Papa almost jumped, and he turned around to look at Daddy. And then he smiled. I've never seen him look so happy, except when Daddy told us that he was carrying a new baby. Then Papa stopped smiling.

"My God, John," he whispered. "I thought… if Bastian hadn't got me, a-anything could have happened!"

Then Papa hugged Daddy, pulling him so close I couldn't see any space between them, even with the baby inside. Daddy let go of my arm, and Bastian and I picked up the shopping. Daddy always packs some of the bags small enough for me to carry.

"It's all right now," Daddy said. "Calm down." He was stroking Papa's back. "Christ, pull yourself together."

"I could have lost you," Papa said, and he finally let Daddy go. "I don't know what I'd do without the three of you. Four." He touched Daddy's tummy, and then looked at Bastian and me. "Come here."

I hugged Papa as hard as I could, and so did Bastian. When Daddy started to pick up the shopping, Papa let us go, and he took the bags instead.

"I can carry them," Daddy said, looking exasperated. (I found that in my thesaurus.)

"Well, I'm here so I'll do it," Papa said.

"It's not necessary—"

"Let's just go home," Bastian said. "Please?"

"What if he comes back?" I said. "I don't like Mr. Mycroft."

"Oh, my angel," Papa said, and he stroked my hair. Daddy looked up at him. "Nobody likes Mr. Mycroft."

When we got home, Papa helped us put the shopping away. Daddy hadn't said much. But he did now.

"Were you following us?" he asked Papa.

"Well, I certainly didn't show up by magic. Of course I was following you."

"Just… just today?" Daddy said. He wasn't looking at Papa, but I don't think Papa noticed that. He was putting the ice cream in the freezer.

"No," Papa said. "I've been following you since the beginning of the pregnancy. I've learnt my lesson. I'll not let anyone take you from me." He knelt down in front of me and pulled me into a hug. "Any of you."

"I love you, Papa," I said. "Thank you for saving us today."

"I'll always save you, Clarissa."

I'd never seen Daddy look so confused before. Then he smiled at Papa like he usually smiles at us, walked close, and then bent over and kissed Papa's hair. Papa looked even happier than before. Daddy wasn't smiling as much. But he squeezed Papa's shoulder, and went on with putting the shopping away.

"He won't try again, will he, Father?" Bastian said.

"He'd better not, if he knows what's good for him," Papa said. He looked grim again. "I tell you what. You and Clarissa are going to take self-defence lessons. More of them, with other people, not just the casual training you get from Uncle Sherlock and Uncle Greg. Uncle Sebastian can stay with you during classes, and I'll stay with your father while you're out. That way, you'll all be protected and watched at all times. Okay?"

"Yes," Bastian said. I nodded and hugged Papa tighter. Daddy didn't say anything. He doesn't really say much at all when Papa's around. It makes me sad sometimes. But some people don't need to say anything at all when they're in love. That's what Uncle Greg said once. And I know Daddy and Papa love each other, because people only Bond when they're in love. Everyone knows that.

It's very late now, and I'm tired. It was a long day. Bastian and I can't wait to start our lessons. And I can't wait to tell my friends about how marvellous my Papa and Daddy are. Papa said I shouldn't talk about his gun, so I won't do that. But he rescued us, so he's my hero.

* * *

**Attempted abduction! Jim to the rescue! Clarissa and Bastian being sassy! And a smile from John. *Sighs in adoration***

**I've decided that after this story is finished, I'll write a prequel from John's POV (and include parts of this story), then maybe write a sequel to this from Bastian's POV, some years into the future. I don't know. It depends on the reader response.**

**By the way, the implication is that Bastian is in on Jim's shadowing, which is how he knew that Jim would be nearby, and was able to get him in time.**


	6. Sixth Entry

"Sixth Entry"

Hi!

Everything's different since yesterday. Uncle Greg picked us up after school and took us back to Scotland Yard. He asked us all about what happened at the shops. He already knew about Mr. Mycroft, but he didn't say much. He said that we would feel better if we talked about it. And since it was an almost-crime, it was important to make a statement.

Then Uncle Sherlock came in, and we told him everything again. He said that we were very brave. He doesn't like Mr. Mycroft either. I asked him how he knew Mr. Mycroft, and Uncle Sherlock said that Mr. Mycroft is his archenemy. I said that he was my archenemy, too. Uncle Sherlock said that I am 'eminently sensible'. Sergeant Sally said that was a good thing when I asked her what it meant, because Uncle Sherlock and Uncle Greg were talking to Bastian.

Papa said that we're going to classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. We're going to learn martial arts. And we're going to learn boxing. Bastian is looking forward to that. I want to learn horse-riding like Rachel, but this is more important. Especially while Daddy is pregnant. Papa said that he'll go everywhere with Daddy when he goes out. When he said that, Daddy's cheeks went pink.

When we watched the news tonight, Daddy sat on the couch. He was at one end, and Papa at the other. I sat between them, and Bastian sat in Daddy's armchair while he did his homework. I hope that when I start getting homework it's as interesting as Bastian's. Uncle Sherlock always says that he doesn't hold out much hope, which is why he teaches us stuff as well. And I do my puzzles.

I was in the middle of a word search when I saw Papa raise his arm. He rested it on the back of the couch, and he smiled when he saw me looking. I looked at Daddy, and could see Papa's fingers near his shoulder, but not touching. Daddy looked at Papa, but he didn't move closer. He sort of relaxed. I didn't know he wasn't relaxed already.

"I can go out on my own, you know," he said. "I'll be perfectly safe."

"Not if yesterday was anything to go by," Papa said. "You need protection, John. While the children are at school, they're supervised. At _any_ school." I knew they were talking about boarding school. I don't know if Bastian is going there yet.

"I can take my service pistol with me," Daddy said.

"You saw those goons. And I'll not have you suffering so much stress that something happens to the baby."

"What could happen to the baby?" Bastian asked. He wasn't looking up from his book. But he wasn't reading, either. So I knew he was listening.

"Well… Something bad could happen, Bastian. I don't think this is an appropriate topic of conversation. Not in front of…" Then Papa looked down at me.

"I'll put my hands over my ears," I said. I tried to look innocent, just like Uncle Sherlock taught me. Papa knew I was pretending. He used his I-don't-believe-you face.

"Something worse than bad," Daddy said. He stroked my hair. "Something terrible. Of course we don't want that to happen." When I looked at him, he looked at Papa. "You're right, of course. The baby comes first. No more risks."

"Good," Papa said. Bastian started writing again, and I found 'Xanadu' in my word search.

After the ads before the weather started, Daddy moved around. He put his arm around me, and leaned a bit closer. When I smiled up at him, I saw that Papa could touch Daddy.

"Why?" Daddy asked Papa. "Why are you so worried? You… you threatened to kill him, for Christ's sake."

Papa looked mad. "Because he tried to take my family away. I'd die before I let that happen, John. You should know that by now. Thirteen years you've had with me. Haven't you caught on yet?" But he was smiling when he said that last bit. Daddy laughed.

"I should be used to geniuses by now," he said. "I just didn't realise how strongly you felt about it. Not until yesterday."

After the news, Papa turned off the TV. But then we just stayed there. Usually, Daddy gets us to shower, then to our rooms so that we can get ready for bed. Bastian finishes his homework and I play. Then we read, and now I write in my diary. But tonight we stayed where we were for ages. I finished my puzzle book and Bastian finished his homework. Even then, Daddy didn't say anything about going to bed. Not until the clock chimed eight, and Daddy nearly jumped. Then he laughed again, and Papa helped him stand up. Then we had to hurry.

I'm still trying to write neatly. I want to get lots of sleep tonight. But Daddy would say that it's no excuse to write badly. I probably won't have time to write tomorrow, but I'll try to write something on Wednesday. If I'm lucky, maybe my friends will want to take classes with me, too. I wish Bastian had more friends, but I don't think he has any. He has a pen pal in Scotland, but I think that's all.

Daddy and Papa have said goodnight. Papa held the door open for Daddy when they went, and he put his hand on Daddy's back. I haven't seen that before. Except when Uncle Greg puts his hand on Uncle Sherlock's back. Does that count?

* * *

**There be troubles ahead, by the way. Just to taunt you with not-so-glad tidings. For I am evil.**

**Review, per favore!**


	7. Seventh Entry

"Seventh Entry"

Hi!

Not much has been happening. Bastian and I started our lessons last week. My hands hurt afterwards. So I can't write on those nights. But I'm okay on the other nights. There just hasn't been anything interesting.

It's Friday now. Bastian's birthday is tomorrow, so we're going out for dinner. Since he doesn't have any friends yet, he's invited some of the boys from boxing. Daddy says that's a good way to make friends. It's a big birthday, because Bastian is going to be thirteen. I'm turning eight in three months. Maybe I'll have more friends, too. But I'll still have my school friends there.

When Uncle Sebastian brought us home, Daddy and Papa were watching TV. Daddy was lying on the couch, and Papa was rubbing his feet. Sometimes Papa does that because carrying a baby makes Daddy's feet sore. But Daddy was almost smiling, and his eyes were closed.

Bastian went to his bedroom. He always gets his homework done early. I went to my bedroom and made sure that my card and present for him were still hidden. They were. Papa and Daddy know where they are, because Daddy helped me choose a present and Papa helped me make the card. He doesn't usually help me with arts and crafts, but he does when I'm making cards. Except when I make a card for him. Then Bastian helps me, or sometimes Daddy.

Daddy was sleeping when we got back to the living room.

"Don't disturb him," Papa whispered. "He doesn't sleep very well."

Bastian started doing his homework. I had put my pencils and puzzle book down when the phone rang. I was the closest, so I answered it.

"Hello?" I said as quietly as I could.

"Good afternoon," a lady said. "Could I speak to Mr. Brook, please?"

"Mr. Brook?" I said. Papa's eyes widened, and he waved at me. I went over to him.

"It's for me," he said. Then he looked down at Daddy. "Clarissa honey, could you take a message, and tell them I'll ring back later? Just… take the call out of the room. I don't want your daddy to wake up. Okay, sweetheart?"

I nodded, and tiptoed out of the room. The lady on the phone must have heard, because she didn't speak.

"Papa wants me to take a message," I said.

"That's fine. Clarissa, was it?"

"Yes."

"Well, you're a very lucky girl to have such a kind father. My name is Michelle, and I work for the Omega Rights Council. Your father makes regular donations to us, and he's helping us get some important legislation… some laws through to parliament. We're hoping to count on his support when approaching them. Having an Alpha back us in person, not just anonymously, would be wonderful."

I was paying close attention. But I still wasn't sure what the point was.

"What do you want me to tell him?" I said. "He said he can call you back later."

"Ask him if he's available to help the ORC in ten weeks' time. We'll be speaking to the house."

"Can he help the ORC when you speak to the house ten weeks from now?"

"That's right, Clarissa."

I nodded. "I'll ask him. Do you want to wait? Only Daddy's asleep, and his feet are on Papa's legs, and Daddy's pregnant with my baby sister or brother."

"Yes, your papa's told us all about it. Congratulations."

"Thank you," I said. I didn't know what else to say. "Bye."

"Bye, Clarissa."

I pressed the off button on the phone, and then took it back to Papa. He looked worried, but Daddy wasn't awake.

"Who was it?" Papa asked.

"A lady name Michelle," I said. "She wanted to know if you would be free to help the ORC when they talk to the house. What's the house, Papa?"

"Parliament," Bastian said.

"Oh," I said. "Papa, why were they asking for Mr. Brook?"

Papa pulled me closer. He spoke even softer.

"Because that's the name I gave them," he said.

"But why?"

He shut his eyes. "Do you… do you know how some writers use another name when they write? And how some actors use stage names?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's like that." He sighed, and opened his eyes again. He stroked my arm. "I don't like too many people to know my real name. And the point of charity isn't for other people to know that you donate. It's all about giving to a worthy cause."

"That's why I put money in the RSPCA boxes at the supermarket."

"Exactly right," Papa said. He kissed me on the cheek. "I'll put the phone on silent, and let the machine take any messages. This is family time now."

My papa's the best in the world.

* * *

**Originally, I named the organisation the Omega Rights and Liberation Council. Then I realised that the acronym for 'Omega Rights and Liberation' spells 'ORaL', and decided against it. You'll find out more about what their aims are in a future chapter. Before everything kind of falls apart.**

**Mwa-ha-ha-ha! Evil.**

**Next chapter: Bastian's birthday party! No, they didn't have dinner on the Friday; if Clarissa's writing made it sound that way, please bear in mind that she's seven years old. Her writing is already advanced enough without it being perfect.**

**Ehem. Not that I consider my own writing to be perfect in any way, shape, or form.**

**Please review!**


	8. Eighth Entry

"Eighth Entry"

Hi!

It was Bastian's birthday today. He liked my card. I drew Brighton, using a picture that Papa found for me. We've been to the beach before. I collected shells for Daddy, and we went swimming in the ocean. I gave Bastian a sleeping bag. Because if he doesn't go away to school, then he can go to sleepovers with his friends. The sleeping bag is blue like water, and it has black stripes. Bastian liked it even more than the card.

We went to dinner at Pizza Hut. Uncle Sebastian was there. He is Bastian's godfather. Uncle Sherlock and Uncle Greg were there, and I sat between them. They are my godfathers. I don't know why we have different godfathers. I asked, but nobody told me why. Then Daddy and Papa and Bastian were there, and Bastian's friends.

His friends (Daddy said he hopes they'll be his friends anyway) are named Patrick and Wayne. Daddy said that Patrick has a Geordie accent (Papa told me how to spell that). He's been going to boxing for six years, since he was nearly my age.

Wayne has only just started like us. He has a different accent, and his hair is in lots of dreadlocks. (Papa said that it's because people dread getting them stuck in locks. Then Daddy told him to stop teasing. But he was giggling. Papa looked like he was trying not to smile.) Bastian said that Wayne comes from the West Indies, and that he thinks England is very cold. But he said that we'd think the West Indies would be very hot.

We all sang happy birthday. I don't remember what everyone bought for Bastian. There was a huge cake, all covered in cream, and there were thirteen candles. Bastian blew them all out at once, which means that he has to make a wish. Then we all clapped, and so did a lot of the other people eating there. Bastian looked embarrassed, especially when Daddy hugged him. But he always does.

"This makes me feel old," Uncle Greg said quietly to Uncle Sherlock.

"You're not old, Uncle Greg," I said. Bastian was cutting the cake. I'd saved room for some. Papa and Daddy think that it's always best to leave room inside for dessert.

"Oh, I'm getting on a bit, Clarissa," Uncle Greg said. "But you're very sweet."

"Not as sweet as this cake looks," Uncle Sherlock said, passing a plate on to Uncle Greg, who was at the end of the table. "I don't suppose you'd like some, Clarissa?"

"Yes, please!" I said. I don't think he would have skipped me. But you can never tell with Uncle Sherlock. Sometimes he forgets to feed himself, after all.

It was the yummiest cake ever. It was chocolate, with cream in the middle, and creamy icing on the outside. I had some of the 'IA' from Bastian's name. Uncle Greg put some of the icing on Uncle Sherlock's nose. Uncle Sherlock looked cross until Uncle Greg offered to kiss it off. Then the boys made 'ew' sounds, and Uncle Sherlock had to clean it off himself. But there was lots of cake leftover, so they took some home after the party.

I helped Bastian carry his presents and cards to his room. He put the cards on his shelves, except for mine. He put it on his bedside table.

"Pride of place," he said, and he grinned at me. He doesn't usually grin like that, unless he's had too much sugar. That's what Daddy says. Daddy's a doctor, so he knows these things.

"Did you like your birthday, Bastian?" I asked.

"I really did," Bastian said. He let me bounce on his bed while he rolled out his sleeping bag. "I'm using this tonight."

"But, Bastian! You're supposed to use it at sleepovers."

"Then I'll break it in, like you do with shoes," he said. "Make sure it's going to be comfy."

"Oh. Okay."

"It's a really good present, Clarissa," he said. "Thank you."

"Daddy said that it's big enough so that when you're older, you'll still fit inside it," I said.

"I know," Bastian said, and he finished rolling it out. "It's huge!"

After we said goodnight, I went to my room to get into my pyjamas. When I went to brush my teeth, I could see Daddy and Papa near the kitchen. They must have been putting the rest of the cake into the fridge. I crept closer. Uncle Sherlock calls this subterfuge, I think. Uncle Greg doesn't mind me doing it.

"Thank you for tonight," Daddy said. Papa turned around and looked at him.

"Uh." Papa sounded confused. "You're welcome? It's really no different from—"

"I know, I know. But you've tightened the security around us, and it's noticeable. Both of them see it. It was… nice of you to dispense with that, just for tonight."

"Even Mycroft Holmes wouldn't be so antisocial that he'd try to kidnap a child on its birthday."

"Antisocial?" Daddy laughed. "That's one way of putting it. A bit of an understatement, really."

"As long as it amuses you."

"It does. It… it really does."

They didn't speak for awhile. Then Papa said, "I had guards outside every possible entrance and exit, and the five of us were armed."

"I know, James. I saw them long before Sherlock deigned to point them out."

"Am I losing my subtlety?"

"Shut up, and accept my gratitude."

Then Daddy hugged Papa. Not very long, because he gasped loudly, and held his tummy.

"What is it?" Papa said.

"A kick."

I saw Papa kneeling down and putting his hand on Daddy's. But then I remembered that I had to brush my teeth, and then go to bed.

I've just remembered something else. When Bastian was putting his card from Papa and Daddy on the shelf, he put it next to a picture of them. Then he stopped, and he looked at it for a long time. It's our favourite. I have one on my dressing table. They're almost looking at each other, but not really. Uncle Greg took it when we all went on holiday together three years ago. I think Daddy was watching Bastian get his face painted. And I think Papa was looking either at Uncle Sherlock trying to buy something, or maybe looking at Daddy. They were both smiling. But it wasn't at each other. Sometimes I pretend they were.

I think I know what Bastian's wish is. I think it's to see Daddy and Papa smiling at each other, just like that.

* * *

***Sighs* I do make things awfully complicated sometimes, don't I?**

**Please review!**


	9. Ninth Entry

"Ninth Entry"

Hi!

My teacher at school is Miss Morstan. She's an Omega like me. We were doing art today, and we had to draw a picture of our family. I was drawing Papa when I remembered the phone call from that lady. So I asked Miss Morstan what the ORC is.

"It's the Omega Rights Council," she said.

"What does it do?" I asked.

"Well," she knelt beside me, "the Omega Rights Council supports the interests of Omegas. There are a lot of people out there who think that an Omega's place is in the home."

"Daddy's at home."

"Yes, but your daddy is pregnant," she said. "He's quite far along, isn't he?"

"Papa said that there's only two months left."

"Then your daddy should be taking it easy," Miss Morstan said. "He's right to stay home."

"I thought that Omegas could do anything they wanted," I said. "That's what Papa told me."

Miss Morstan made a funny face. "Yes, well. He's not entirely correct."

"What do you mean?"

Some of the others were listening, too. But Miss Morstan stayed where she was.

"It's complicated," she said. "There aren't many Omegas in top jobs. There aren't many Omegas as… school principals, for example. There has only been one Omega as Prime Minister, only two American presidents who were Omegas, and it was only because they pretended to be Betas. Omegas can get into a lot of trouble if they pretend to be Betas. Society… uh, people think that we're weaker. They think that all Omegas want to be Bonded and have children, which means that they'll have to stop working. Not to mention… other distractions."

"That's not very nice," I said.

"No, it isn't. The Omega Rights Council is trying to change that. They want to make sure that Omegas have the same rights as Betas and Alphas. They want Omegas to be seen as equals and individuals. And there are other, more grown-up laws they want to be changed. But you're too young to know about them." She patted my shoulder. "One day you'll understand. In the meantime, the council is doing its best to make sure that all Omegas will have a brighter future. By the time you've left school, I'm sure you'll be able to do anything you want."

When Bastian and I got home, I found Daddy. He was writing his blog, and he let me sit next to him.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Miss Morstan told us all about the Omega Rights Council."

"Did she? I'm surprised."

"I asked her about it."

"Ah," Daddy said, and he nodded. "I see."

"Daddy, why can't Omegas be Prime Ministers, but they can be in the army? You were a soldier, weren't you, Daddy? And you're a doctor."

"Well, it was a hard road to get there," Daddy said. "I took special tablets so that… you know when Papa takes me for a holiday every few months?"

"Yes."

"That's because I'm… not well. It happens to Omegas, and it will happen when you grow up. Likely when you reach Bastian's age. The tablets made sure that I wasn't sick when it came time for exams. In fact, it made sure that I wasn't sick at all. I became an army doctor because there weren't many ready to do the job, and I wasn't Bonded to Papa then. I didn't have a family. Only Auntie Harry, and she had Auntie Clara. As long as I kept taking the special tablets, I was okay."

"Did you stop taking them?"

"Only after I had to stop being a soldier. It was dangerous to keep taking them that long, but I didn't expect to Bond with anyone by then. I didn't think anyone would want me."

"Papa does."

Daddy laughed softly. "Well, your Papa is… different." He stroked my hair. "You sound so much like him." I didn't know what to say to that. "What made you think of the ORC?"

"Because they rang the other day, when you were asleep."

"What did they want? Were they asking for donations? They only have my mobile number, so it can't be about the next meeting."

"No. They were asking for Papa."

Daddy sort of froze. "Why?"

"They wanted his help."

"What sort of help?"

"To talk to the house. Bastian said that's parliament."

Daddy didn't say anything for a moment.

"Why would they want your father there?" he said.

"Papa helps them. He gives them a lot of money. That's what Michelle said. She's the lady who called. But they think that Papa's name is… Mr. Brook? I think that's what she said. You should ask Papa. I wrote it down in my diary, if you want me to check."

"No, no," Daddy said. "That's fine. Thank you, Clarissa."

"You're welcome, Daddy."

His eyes were huge, and he started muttering to himself. I only heard a little, like 'Richard Brook' and 'Major sponsor' and 'He never told me' and 'Oh my God'.

At dinner, Daddy didn't say much. Bastian told us all about what he did at school. I miss not seeing him at school. But if he went away, I wouldn't see him at all, which would make me sadder. Papa only got home just before dinnertime. But he'd told Daddy, so Papa's food was ready, too. I showed them my picture, and Bastian went and put it on the refrigerator.

I think Papa was nervous, because Daddy kept looking at him, and Papa kept frowning and looking at his plate whenever he saw Daddy looking. Every time Papa started to say something, he'd look at me, or Bastian, and then stop. It was a very quiet dinner. After dessert (apple pie, which made Papa look happy) Daddy went around the table and kissed Papa on the cheek.

"Thank you," he said. Papa's eyebrows went up.

"For what?" he asked.

Daddy rubbed Papa's cheek with his thumb, but not where he'd kissed it. He didn't say anything. Then we put the dishes in the dishwasher. Papa didn't say anything either. He just kept looking baffled. (I love that word. It sounds nice.)

They still didn't really smile at each other. But Bastian looked happy, too, which made me happy. In fact, I've never been this happy before, even when our team won the relay at the swimming carnival. And I was very happy then.

Time to go to bed now. I'm going to have to sharpen all of my pencils tomorrow.

* * *

**Yep. Everything's going well; which means that everything's about to go downhill.**

**You're welcome.**

**Please review!**


	10. Tenth Entry

**Warning: Mention of past rape (although technically the situation was dub-con), mention of suicidal thoughts (although not as suicidal thoughts are usually… well, mentioned).**

"Tenth Entry"

Hi.

I love Uncle Greg and Uncle Sherlock. But I hate Papa. And I _hate_ Daddy.

I'm staying at Baker Street, and I don't want to go home. I don't ever want to go home. I hate it there, and I'm not going back. Not even to get toys or clothes. Uncle Sherlock said he'll buy some for me, but I brought my school uniform, and things for the weekend, and my pyjamas. And my diary. But not my puzzles. I told Uncle Sherlock I can help him with his puzzles. He said he would see about that.

It's been a horrible day. Today is Friday. Uncle Sebastian took us home. Bastian started doing his homework, because Papa got home at the same time, and he took Daddy into his study without saying hello to us. I wanted to find out why, so I followed them. Then I listened at the door. It was closed, so I had to use the keyhole. But Papa was loud enough.

"Do you know what I've just found out, John?" he said.

"Should you tell me, or is this something I shouldn't know?" Daddy asked.

"Oh, you know all about it. That's the exact nature of the problem."

"I don't understand—"

"Don't you just? Well, let me remind you. Do you remember that day you were approached by Mycroft Holmes?"

"At the shops, when he tried to abduct us? How could I forget?"

Papa laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh. I hate that laugh almost as much as I hate Papa.

"No, before that," he said. "One of those days when you had lunch with his brother and Lestrade." (Lestrade is Uncle Greg.)

"I… I don't know what you mean—"

"Don't lie to me!"

I nearly jumped back. Papa sounded so angry.

"James, I—"

"It was all planned. I know it was all planned. My sources found indisputable evidence of the four of you conspiring against me. Is it true, John? Was it all an act?"

"James—"

"Were you just pretending to say no? Were you going to allow others to manhandle our children into a car, and take them away from me? Were you going to risk the baby's life just to escape?"

"You don't under—"

"Were you going to have the Bond severed, get me thrown into jail, and then Bond with someone else? Who was it? Lestrade? A complete stranger? Were you going to separate me from my children just because you hate me?"

"Yes!" Daddy shouted. I could see him stand up. "And because it's safer! Don't pretend to be the injured party here, Moriarty. You're just as much to blame. If you hadn't forced me into a Bond, I wouldn't have had to arrange for a Severing. I wouldn't have had to set up an elaborate escape plan, and risk putting my children—"

"Our children."

"Through all of that. Yes, Greg was a possibility, but I wouldn't want to take him from Sherlock, even if it would have just been for appearances."

Papa laughed that horrible laugh again. "And to think that things were starting to look up. I never thought I could be such a fool."

"Of course you're a fool," Daddy said. "When I think of all the marvellous things you could do, with a mind like yours, and instead you chose a life of crime. Arranging the murders of innocent people, associating with terrorists. For God's sake, the night you raped me, you were going to blow me up first!"

"It wasn't rape—"

"In the eyes of the law, maybe. But in my eyes, it's something I _never_ wanted. And if it wasn't for our children, I would have killed myself by now, rather than be Bonded to you, let alone married."

I didn't want to hear any more. I didn't understand everything, but I did understand one thing. Daddy knew that Mr. Mycroft was going to kidnap us. If Papa hadn't been there, I don't know where we could have been. But when I used my dictionary, I found out what Papa did, too.

So I packed my backpack. I also had a bag from when we go on holiday, and I put everything I could into it, but not so much that I couldn't carry it. I tore a piece of paper from my diary. I used it to write a note for Bastian, and left it on my bed in an envelope with his name on it.

It's hard to leave our place. But I knew how, because Daddy and Papa had told us how to leave sneakily. Just in case we ever had to escape. They didn't know that I would use it to leave them.

Once I found a Tube station (I know what they look like from driving past) I bought a ticket using a machine. I went through the big barrier, because of my bags. There were a lot of people, which made it easier to be invisible. Uncle Greg always says that I'm smart, and so does Bastian. It wasn't hard to find my way to Baker Street. It has its very own Tube stop, and it is on the Bakerloo line. Bakerloo is Baker Street plus Waterloo.

When I left the station, I knew where I was because I've seen everything so many times. It wasn't far to Uncle Sherlock and Uncle Greg's flat. I knocked on the door, and Auntie Mrs. Hudson answered. She took me upstairs, and said that Uncle Sherlock was in, but that she didn't know whether or not Uncle Greg was home yet. She asked if I was staying over, and I said yes.

"I'm busy, Mrs. Hudson, although a cup of tea would be appreciated," Uncle Sherlock said, not looking up from his laptop. Actually, I think it was Uncle Greg's laptop. Then he looked up when I put my bags down, and his eyes went all wide. "Clarissa?"

I was trying not to cry, but I was tired, and I was sad. Uncle Sherlock put the laptop down, and he opened his arms. I ran over to him and climbed into his lap.

"Make that two cups of tea," Uncle Sherlock said.

"Of course," Mrs. Hudson said.

After we had our tea, Mrs. Hudson went downstairs again. I was still crying. Then Uncle Sherlock's mobile phone rang.

"Do you mind if I answer that, Clarissa?" Uncle Sherlock said. "That's my ring-tone for Uncle Greg."

"You can answer it if you want to," I said. I don't know how much he heard, because I had my face pressed into his shirt. But he picked his phone up anyway.

"Greg?" he said. I couldn't hear Uncle Greg's voice. "Yes, I am aware of that. Of course I am not telepathic. She's here. Yes, of course at Baker Street. Her note said what? I see. She is sensible; of course she brought her uniforms. You did, didn't you, Clarissa?" I nodded. "She did. No, I'm not sending her back. If she's upset enough to run away from home, I won't force her to do anything she doesn't want to do."

"Not like Papa," I said. Uncle Sherlock shushed Uncle Greg.

"What do you mean, Clarissa?" he asked.

"Daddy said that Papa raped him. He forced the Bond."

"…Clarissa, that was a long time ago," Uncle Sherlock said. "I know that doesn't make it any less terrible, but technically…" He sighed. "Greg, she has had a terrible shock. I haven't heard the full story yet, but I will when she feels ready to tell me. In the meantime, she's staying here." He paused. "If you are all right with that. I am sure Mrs. Hudson would be happy to have her if… Oh, you are an idiot, Lestrade. She's here, in my lap, crying. When have you ever seen Clarissa unhappy? I don't think she even cried when she was a baby, let alone over scraped knees. Thank you, Greg. You'll be home…? Very well. We shall prepare supper. I love you, too."

"Love you, Uncle Greg."

"Clarissa says that she loves you as well."

Then Uncle Sherlock put his phone down, and he held me as he stood up.

"You're not angry with Uncle Greg, are you?" I said.

"Oh, of course not. Uncle Greg knows that I worship the ground he walks upon. No need to tell him that, of course. Now, my dear." He placed me on the kitchen bench and put a box of tissues beside me. He pulled one out, and started to wipe away my tears. "Would you rather help me make dinner, or tell me what happened?"

I told him everything that Daddy and Papa had said, while Uncle Sherlock got food out of the fridge. He didn't look pleased, and kept calling them idiots. That's one of his favourite words. He says it in different ways. This wasn't the way he said it when he was talking to Uncle Greg. It's the way he says it about Mr. Anderson and Sergeant Sally. (But Sergeant Sally is nice to me. I like Sergeant Sally. I don't like that she doesn't like Uncle Sherlock, though.)

When Uncle Greg got home, I had to tell him. I was crying again by the end, and this time Uncle Greg cuddled me. He didn't say anything. Not until the end.

"Stay as long as you need to, sweetheart," he said, and he kissed the top of my head.

My hand is hurting now. Uncle Sherlock has been playing his violin for ages. Uncle Greg has been using the laptop to write emails while I've been writing. But I'm very tired n—

* * *

**And Clarissa fell asleep, leading to a trail of pencil running off the page.**

**Told you there was drama coming up. Oops.**

**Review, please!**


	11. Eleventh Entry

"Eleventh Entry"

Hi.

Bastian's staying at Baker Street now, too. Uncle Sebastian brought him on Saturday afternoon. Bastian told me that he argued with Papa and Daddy after he found my note. He was the one who called Uncle Greg. Then he packed, and said that he was going to stay with me, because he was angry with them, too, and I'm not used to sleeping away from home. Not without Daddy or Papa or Bastian. Uncle Greg said that I slept much better than Uncle Sherlock. They let me stay with them. But because they work odd hours sometimes, I'll be sleeping upstairs. It's where Daddy used to sleep, but it's used for guests now. It doesn't smell like Daddy anymore, which is good.

It's Sunday night now. Bastian stayed with me last night. He was supposed to sleep on the couch, but I woke up crying, so he didn't leave me. I have the best big brother in the whole world. Even though he says that we have to go home sometime. But he hasn't said when.

Uncle Greg let us go to work with him today. Sergeant Sally took me for a walk. She said it was a good excuse to avoid paperwork. I met new people, as well as some people I already knew. DI Dimmock was there. He was very impressed when I showed him how I'd borrowed a constable's police card, the way Uncle Sherlock taught me. I said that I was going to put it back before it was missed, but DI Dimmock said that he'd do it for me. I showed him how using his card. I don't think he realised I'd borrowed it as well. He called Uncle Sherlock a word that Sergeant Sally told me to forget. She said she wasn't going to explain what it meant.

"Uncle Sherlock's taking us to St. Bart's," Bastian said when we went back to Uncle Greg's office. He didn't look very happy. It's odd, because Bastian wants to be a doctor, and he likes Miss Molly. She works in the morgue.

"Thank you, Sergeant Sally," I said.

"Could I have my warrant card back?" she asked.

"I didn't take it."

She checked, and then winked at me. "All right. I'll let you off the hook this once. Only because you tried it on Dimmock."

"Detective Inspector Dimmock," Uncle Greg said.

"Of course, sir," she said. Then she waved goodbye as we left with Uncle Sherlock. But I did kiss Uncle Greg goodbye, first.

Miss Molly was very happy to see us. She lifted me onto a stool so that I could see what she was working on. Well, what Uncle Sherlock wanted to work on. Bastian helped while Miss Molly explained to me what they were doing. Miss Molly knew Papa once, but no one's told me how. I thought they said it was because Papa worked here, but Papa's not a doctor. I think they got confused between Papa and Daddy. But I don't want to think about them.

"How's Greg?" Miss Molly asked. Bastian was practising stitches on the body. Uncle Sherlock was making sure he did it right.

"Fine, fine," Uncle Sherlock said. He looked up at Miss Molly. "He's very well. We're both excited to have Bastian and Clarissa staying with us. Greg would make a good father."

"So would you, Uncle Sherlock," I said.

"I think you would, too," Miss Molly said. Uncle Sherlock shook his head.

"It is unlikely to happen, and he accepted a long time ago that he does not wish to father children at his age. It is dangerous in our line of work. There is no need to… like this, Bastian… that is correct. There is no need to put a child through that."

"I wouldn't mind babysitting these two anytime." Miss Molly likes to cuddle me sometimes. She's a Beta, and she doesn't have anyone. So I let her hug me whenever she wants to. And I needed it, too.

"I'm thirteen now," Bastian said. He was still concentrating on his stitches. Uncle Sherlock was studying the kidneys again. "I don't need a nanny."

"Yes, but your fathers wouldn't— no one would let you look after Clarissa all by yourself," Miss Molly said. "And there's the new baby coming along. Aren't you excited about getting a new brother or sister? I would be."

"Maybe," I said. "I don't know."

"Molly, where's that report?" Uncle Sherlock said.

"Just here, Sherlock," she said.

"I need it."

Miss Molly sighed, and she handed Uncle Sherlock the file that Uncle Greg had given him.

We went back to New Scotland Yard two hours later. Bastian and I waited near the snack machines, and Bastian bought crisps to share. Mr. Anderson bought a chocolate, and he gave us the same look he always gives us. Bastian thinks that he's suspicious of us. I like the word suspicious. I think Bastian is right. Uncle Sherlock says that ten of Mr. Anderson couldn't be even half as smart of either of us. I don't know about that. But Uncle Sherlock is nice like that.

I've nearly finished writing for tonight. Uncle Sherlock asked Bastian about what's been going on at home, especially since Mr. Mycroft tried to take us away.

"The dynamic's changed," Bastian said. "Lasted for a few days, anyway. It was like Dad… _liked_ Father. We don't get to see that an awful lot. At all. He would kiss Father, smile at him sometimes. Clarissa didn't see what happened after that argument she overheard, but I saw them. Father wouldn't look at Dad except to… you know that saying 'If looks could kill'? It was like that. But Dad didn't… it was weird. He didn't look as angry as Father. He looked a bit guilty, and he wouldn't even look at me. Father yelled at him after I showed them the note. Dad said they were both to blame. But I left after that. I didn't want to hear any more. The next day – yesterday – I told them I was leaving, and called you."

"Did you notice anything different, Clarissa?" Uncle Greg asked. I was in his lap.

"Yes," I said. "I've written everything in my diary."

"Would you like to tell us?" Uncle Sherlock said.

Instead, I'm going to let him read it. I trust Uncle Sherlock and Uncle Greg. If you're reading this, too, I love both of you very much. And thank you for looking after us.

* * *

**I keep getting "Good Golly, Miss Molly" (sung by Little Richard) stuck in my head, thanks to Clarissa's name for Molly. Bother. It's like that 'Avengers' fan fic of mine, where the title was a line from "Honeybun", a song in 'South Pacific'. Kept getting that song stuck in my head while writing the story. And, indeed, whenever I read it.**


	12. Twelfth Entry

"Twelfth Chapter"

Hi.

Uncle Sherlock gave me back my diary today. He said that I write very well for someone who's only seven years old. Uncle Greg thinks so, too.

It's Wednesday today. Bastian and I had our self-defence class last night. Uncle Greg took us, because he said that Uncle Sherlock would try to correct the teacher, and then get thrown out of the room. And since they're supposed to be protecting me, he said that that would be counter-productive. (I'm learning a lot of new words. When Uncle Sherlock is working, I keep a dictionary next to me, just in case.)

Daddy called today. Uncle Sherlock talked to him, and then Uncle Greg, and then Bastian. But I didn't. Daddy kept saying he was sorry and that he was wrong. He said that he and Papa were talking to each other about grown-up things. Then Papa got on the phone. I still didn't talk. He said the same things as Daddy.

"Please come home soon, my angel," he said. "We love you both very much, and we just want to see you again. Won't you say something?"

"Your daughter is very tired," Uncle Sherlock said. (By the way, the phone was on speaker so that we could all hear.) "What reparations do you intend to make towards your children, Moriarty?"

"Whatever is necessary, Holmes," Papa said.

"Absolutely," Daddy said. His voice was much quieter; he must have been farther away from the telephone. "Bastian, Clarissa, please come home. I swear, it'll never happen again. We'll work something out, all right?"

I just burrowed into Bastian's side some more. He doesn't mind.

"We'll think about it," Bastian said. The call ended soon after that.

My friends already know that we're staying with Uncle Greg and Uncle Sherlock. I told them that Daddy and Papa hurt each other's feelings, and that it made me sad. They were very surprised when I told them that I found my way to Baker Street all by myself. I mean, there were signs on the Tube, but they don't count. That's what Jolinda thinks, anyway.

"When are you going home?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know," I said. "I don't want to go home."

"But there'll be a new baby soon," May said.

"Bastian said we should be home before then. But I like sleeping over at Baker Street. And Uncle Sherlock and Uncle Greg are wonderful. They look after us."

"Aren't you hurting your daddy's feelings?" Rachel said.

I didn't really want to talk about it anymore. So we talked about books until lunch was over.

I'm back now. Uncle Sebastian came to visit while I was writing, so I had to stop. Now I can start again.

Bastian and I are going home on Friday. Uncle Greg and Uncle Sherlock want to take us out to dinner first, if they're not busy. Then they'll take us home. I still don't want to go, but Bastian thinks we should. And Uncle Sebastian is right, too.

When he got here, he was polite to Uncle Sherlock. (Uncle Greg was making tea.) He let us hug him. Uncle Sebastian is very tall, and he has a moustache. (I always have to look up how to spell that.) He used to be in the army, but he wasn't a doctor like Daddy. He was a sniper. That's a person who shoots a gun from far away. He took us to a range one day and showed us. He's very good at it.

"What's this I hear about you running away from home?" he asked. He was in the middle of the couch. I was on his left side and Bastian was on his right side. "You had us all very worried, Clarissa."

"Uncle Sherlock wasn't worried," I said. "He knew before anyone else."

"That's always the way," Uncle Greg said. He put a tray on the coffee table. Uncle Sherlock smiled.

"Of course I did," he said. "It's my business."

"I didn't know what Papa's business was," I said. "I thought he helped people. That's what he told me. I knew he wasn't a policeman, like Uncle Greg. Or a doctor, like Daddy."

"Well, sometimes people need a… a different kind of help," Uncle Sebastian said. He drank some of his tea. He wouldn't look at us. "Your father provides a service… he does things that no one else does."

"That's one way of putting it," Uncle Sherlock said. Uncle Greg smacked his leg, and Uncle Sherlock raised an eyebrow. I don't know how he does that. He said that he'll teach me one day.

"I wanted to be like Papa when I grow up," I said. "Now I don't want to anymore. I want to be like Uncle Greg and Uncle Sherlock. They help people. They put the bad people in jail, and save the good people."

"Yes, but there are a lot of bad people out there who don't get what's coming to them— who escape justice. They don't get sent to prison when they should be. It's frustrating when that happens, isn't it, Lestrade?"

Uncle Greg nodded. "That doesn't mean it's right to choose who to snuff out."

"Even if it's the worst kind of person?" Uncle Sebastian said.

"If only that was all he does," Uncle Sherlock said.

"You don't know _anything_ about Jim Moriarty," Uncle Sebastian said loudly. He sat forward, and put his tea back on the saucer. "The last ten years, he's changed. Become a regular Robin Hood. Anything he arranges, it only affects the bad guys of this world. Stealing from the unworthy rich. And he donates a lot to charities. He helps the Omega Rights Council, for Pete's sake! And did you know, Sherlock Holmes, that he ensures every crime… every _puzzle_ is interesting enough to keep you from getting bored? Who do you think he's doing that for? It sure as hell isn't for your sake."

Then Uncle Sebastian sat back. Uncle Sherlock looked very surprised. He drank some more tea, and he looked at Uncle Greg without turning his head.

"How interesting," Uncle Sherlock said.

"Now." Uncle Sebastian sighed, and he held our hands. "Now I know you were hurt by the things you heard. But it's been over thirteen years since that happened. If you'd seen what it was like in the early days, you'd realise how different it was. Both your fathers have changed. Your daddy gave your papa a second chance, Clarissa. Won't you do the same?"

I didn't like everyone looking at me. Bastian rescued me.

"It's a school night," he said. "We'll go back on Friday or Saturday. Is that okay, Clarissa? I think we should."

"We'd love to have you stay over any time you need," Uncle Greg said.

But I knew we couldn't stay forever. Uncle Greg and Uncle Sherlock have been brilliant. But I wasn't invited in the first place. So I said yes.

Now it's time for bed. Bastian has put his homework away, and we both need to go to sleep. Only two more nights until we leave Baker Street.

* * *

**I'm fluffy.**

…**That is all.**

**Please review, my dears!**


	13. Thirteenth Entry

"Thirteenth Entry"

Hi.

We're back home now. It's nice to be back in my room. I missed my books and my stuffed animals. I have names for all of them. There's a black cat which Papa bought for me when I was two, at a carnival. Its name is Sooty, like Mr. Pinkwhistle's cat. I have seven bears, one for each birthday, from Uncle Sebastian. Uncle Sherlock buys me dolls from wherever he goes on a case. Daddy made sure I had a cupboard to put them all in, and then furniture and clothes. It's like a huge dolls house. Uncle Greg buys me different hats. For my last birthday, he gave me a hat like Uncle Sherlock's. It has one flap at the front and one at the back.

But my favourite toy is a dolphin. Bastian bought it for me, so its name is Bastian. He bought it when we went to the London Aquarium. It was his 10th birthday, but he bought me a toy anyway. Bastian-the-Dolphin stays in bed with me. I took him to Baker Street when we were staying there.

I don't think anything is different between Daddy and Papa. Papa doesn't talk to Daddy very much. It's like it was before, only the other way around. Daddy talks more to Papa than Papa talks to Daddy. If this is one of those grown-up things, I don't want to grow up.

I wish the last three weeks had never happened. It was all fine after Papa rescued us from Mr. Mycroft. But if Daddy hadn't wanted us to be taken away, then there wouldn't have been anything for them to argue about. And maybe things would have gotten better by themselves. And there's the baby. Aren't babies supposed to make everything better? I think that's what they say on the TV. Daddy says that's just the Alphas who think that, though. But Papa's an Alpha.

Papa took me to the shops today. I don't like going to the shops very much anymore, but he thought it was important.

"Would you like something different for your lunchbox, my angel?" he said. "Anything you want."

"Is this bribery?" I asked. Papa stopped pushing the trolley, and just looked at me.

"Where did you learn about bribery?" he said.

"Uncle Sherlock said that one of his puzzles had bribery in it. I asked him what it was, and he told me. Then Uncle Greg had to… translate it. He said 'translate it'. Because Uncle Sherlock's answer didn't make much sense."

"That sounds about right," Papa said. "Would you like cream buns, Clarissa? We could have them at home. And then maybe some biscuits so that you can take some to school, and share them with your friends. Would you like that?"

I missed Papa stroking my hair. When he did, it felt like all the bad things went away. It always feels like that, but especially when Papa does it. Daddy says it's because Papa is like our pack leader. Like with wolves. But we're not actually wolves. Otherwise I couldn't write.

So when Papa stroked my hair, I felt a bit better. We did buy cream buns, and crackers, and sweet biscuits. There was also a new Disney movie out on DVD, so Papa bought that as well. We watched it after the news. We had to have our showers first. I was left alone with Daddy when Bastian was in the bathroom and while Papa was making popcorn. He makes it using real corn.

"Clarissa baby," Daddy said. I looked at him. Bastian and I were using his open sleeping bag, so I was snuggled in his place. I wanted to keep it warm for him.

"Yes, Daddy?" I said.

"When I…" Daddy stopped. He turned his head away, then back to the TV screen. But he didn't look at me. "When Mycroft and I arranged all of… that business, it was a long time ago. Two or three years ago. That's why we do the same thing every weekend. I don't always remember that he's watching because the wait's been so long, and it was just… You have to believe that…"

"That what, Daddy?"

He didn't speak for awhile. "I never wanted to hurt you. I was trying to protect you. I had no idea how… how _anyone_ felt. I had no idea how your papa would react. Didn't even know he would be there. Sherlock was right. Sometimes I can be so blind. I see, but I don't observe." He laughed. It wasn't really a happy laugh. It was one of those fake laughs I hate.

"You wanted to take us away from Papa," I said.

"Angel," Daddy said. He leaned forward. "When I first knew your father, he was a… a bad man. Dangerous. Don't get me wrong; I like— even love danger. But he was on the other side of the law, and he was Uncle Sherlock's archenemy. Aside from Mycroft. I'm one of Uncle Sherlock's few friends, and any enemy of his… especially someone like your father."

"But Papa loves us," I said. I was cuddling Bastian-the-Dolphin. "He'd never hurt us."

"That's the thing," Daddy said. "Clarissa, when you're older, I'll have to tell you about more… grown-up things. How babies are made. That sort of thing."

"Babies are made by an Alpha and an Omega."

"Yes, but there's a certain… you know how I'm sick every few months, and Papa takes me away?"

"Yes."

"That's the best time to be… creating babies. When an Alpha makes an Omega feel better. And it can be any Alpha, by law. So when I was… accidentally Bonded to the last Alpha in the world that I wanted, it was terrible. I was so scared for the baby I was carrying – for Bastian – that I kept trying to run. Clarissa, you will understand this all one day. Just know that… that things change. I never told Mycroft to drop the plan. I've told him now, of course. I don't want to leave you." He sighed. "I just wish I hadn't lost so much because of what happened. I didn't even know I could lose your father the way I did. Please forgive me someday."

"Nearly time to start the movie," Bastian said. He came into the living room, and I moved out of the way so that he could have his spot back. Papa brought two bowls of popcorn, and sat down again. He was on the left side of the couch, and Daddy was on the right side. Bastian and I got a bowl to share, and Daddy and Papa shared the other bowl.

The movie was one of those ones where it's a short rectangle, and there are rectangles of black on the top and the bottom. During the love song, I looked down, because I get embarrassed about the kissing. So does Bastian. But he's better at hiding it. In the dark bits, I could see Daddy and Papa reaching for the bowl at the same time, and turned my head around to see better. Their hands must have touched, because they pulled their hands out of the bowl without taking any popcorn. But then Daddy picked up some popcorn and held it out.

"Here," he said softly. Papa didn't move at first. Then he opened his hand, and Daddy gave him the popcorn. They were staring at each other.

Then Bastian poked my leg. When I scowled at him, he winked, and put his finger to his lips. Then I knew what he meant. We had to stay quiet so we wouldn't disturb Papa and Daddy. And the love song was over, so it was okay to start watching again.

That's all now. I'm glad I don't have to worry about losing my diary. Uncle Sherlock and Uncle Greg have a lot of things at Baker Street. But my diary stays in my room at home.

* * *

**I don't know what made me throw that bit in, with the whole, clichéd, reach-for-the-bowl-at-the-same-time thing going on there. Ah well. Reparations must start somewhere, even though Jim's going to be wary at first. He still isn't talking to John, after all.**


	14. Fourteenth Entry

"Fourteenth Entry"

Hi!

I'm feeling much better. I've had a cold for three days, but Daddy took care of me, and Papa stayed home, too. I can go back to school tomorrow. It will only be Friday, but then I can rest during the weekend.

Yesterday, Papa made a nest for me in the living room. Then we watched _The Animals of Farthing Wood_ for hours. Daddy kept making me soup, and Uncle Sherlock and Uncle Greg both called to ask how I was. Uncle Sebastian brought Bastian home after school, and they had bought ice cream from Tesco. Then Uncle Sebastian left, and we watched _The Legends of Treasure Island_ until dinner. We finished it after the news, and Bastian did his homework. Then we went to bed.

Papa made the nest again today, and we started the Barbie movies. Because my nest was in front of the couch, Papa was in one chair and Daddy was in the other chair. I kept looking at them. Daddy was nearly always looking at Papa. Papa sometimes looked at him, but he was usually staring at the TV. Or in the TV's direction. I don't know whether he was really watching the movies.

After _Princess and the Pauper_, I went to the toilet. Daddy said he would get me some ice cream. When I came back, I could hear him talking to Papa.

"If you're bored, you can go back to work," Daddy said.

"I'm giving Sebastian instructions when necessary," Papa said. "But he's an excellent second-in-command. And he understands the importance of family. More than most… most people would give him credit for."

"James, I wish you'd let me talk with you."

"We're talking now."

"A real talk! Not something to fill in the time `til Clarissa gets back. We need to have a serious discussion. Something meaningful, James."

"Stop calling me that. Just call me Moriarty. That's what you always do."

"Not always—"

"You do enough. Now… she'll be back soon. I heard the flush nearly a minute ago."

Daddy sighed. "I'll take the ice cream through. You go and check on her."

I walked back a little bit, and then rubbed my eyes as I walked along, looking as tired as I could. I didn't want to go back to bed. But I didn't want Papa to know that I'd been listening. Bastian said that I should stop doing that, in case I hear anything bad again. He said that he doesn't like it when I'm sad. He also said I should go to him if I don't know what a word means, and he'll tell me what it means if I'm old enough to know. It's for the best, I think. Bastian knows these things. And he has a dictionary, too.

I fell asleep during _Fairytopia_. When I woke up, I was lying on the couch, and my head was resting on Bastian's legs. He was stroking my hair. The TV was on the news station, and it was playing quietly. Bastian was doing his homework with one hand. He's ambidextrous, which means he can write with both hands.

"Hi," he whispered.

"Hi, Bastian," I said.

"Father and Dad are in the study. That's where they said they were going to be. Do you want a drink?"

"Could I have some soup, please?"

"Of course," he said, and he kissed the top of my head. "Do you want to stretch your legs? You've been curled up. Then we can watch the rest of the movie, if you want."

"Yes, please."

"Okay."

While Bastian went to the kitchen, I went to the bathroom again. My face was feeling all hot. I splashed some cool water on it, and I felt much better. I had just left when I heard Daddy and Papa's voices. I went to go and tell them that I was awake now, so they could see the rest of the film as well. But Papa was speaking.

"…wouldn't have made any difference. We have separate bank accounts."

"This isn't about the donations, James. You've been helping them— us! If I'd had any idea that you were Richard Brooks—"

"It shouldn't have any bearing on how this marriage operates, John."

"All these years… it would have been nice to know that you had a heart all this time."

"Why is it that you can see the good in everyone else, but not in me?"

Through the gap in the door (it was open) I saw Daddy put his hand on Papa's arm. Papa tried to pull it away, but Daddy didn't let go.

"Maybe because you've never given me reason to?" he said. "Or have you forgotten that I'm a bit dense? Good thing our kids got your brains, isn't it?" He laughed a little. Papa smiled, even though it wasn't very big.

"Good thing they got your heart," he said. "They'd do no good with mine. My own husband hates me, after all."

"No, I don't—"

"If you'd known I was Richard Brook all this time, would you have behaved differently?"

"Yes, of course."

"Been a little kinder?"

"Much kinder."

"Argued with me less?"

"We wouldn't have had enough reason to argue."

"Just made my life easier in general?"

Daddy frowned. "Yes."

"All because I'm your group's most significant backer?"

"…I…"

"Because I'd rather you not whore yourself out to me, John. I'd rather Clarissa had never told you than find out how different things might have been, and the reason why."

I backed away again, but it didn't matter. Daddy didn't say anything, and neither did Papa. Then I knocked on the door.

"Papa?" I said. "Could we finish the movie now, please?"

"Clarissa!" Bastian said. "Your soup's ready!"

"Let's go, my angel," Papa said, and he picked me up. "Nearly better, are you?"

"I think so, Papa."

Daddy smiled at me, and he followed us back to the living room.

I'm glad I'm going back to school tomorrow. I asked Bastian what 'backer' and 'whore' meant, and he told me what the first one meant. But he said that the second one wasn't a nice word. He told me how to spell it, but not to look it up in my dictionary. So I won't.

* * *

**Good, obedient little sister.**

**Enjoyed the references to children's television shows from the 1990s? Gosh, I loved those two series. I was in love with Captain Smollett, you know. I wish they were out on DVD. Ah well. This story is set in the early 2020s, so maybe by then they'll be available on disc? You know, in English. Sigh.**

**Please review, my dears!**


	15. Fifteenth Entry

"Fifteenth Entry"

Hi!

Gosh, it's been busy these last two days. Yesterday was Saturday, and that's when everything happened. I'm still tired today, but I must write all about it. Bastian thinks it will be very exciting to read, so I'm going to do my best for him. I know I'll never forget any of it, ever.

Yesterday morning, Daddy had to go to an appointment with the baby doctor. I don't know what a baby doctor is called, but he was going to have an ultrasound. That's so the doctor can make sure the baby is growing properly. Papa and Daddy don't want to know whether it's a boy or a girl yet. Because Daddy's getting older, he will have to stay in the hospital after the baby is born for a few days, which will give Papa time to buy new clothes. Uncle Sherlock says that that isn't logical. Uncle Greg says that Uncle Sherlock doesn't care about surprises. (That's silly, because surprises aren't boring. Unless Uncle Sherlock works out what they are. Then I guess they would be boring for him.)

Bastian was at St. Bart's with Miss Molly, looking at bodies. Uncle Sherlock was on a case with Uncle Greg, but he was supposed to be going there after he solved it. I went with Daddy to his appointment, and Uncle Sebastian took us there. Papa was meeting someone from the Omega Rights Council. That's what was supposed to happen. But everything went wrong.

Uncle Sebastian got a call on his phone, and went into the waiting room to answer it while Daddy and I sat in the doctor's office. Then a man came into the office, but he wasn't the doctor. He locked the door, pulled out a gun, and then aimed it at me. Daddy stood up as quickly as he could, which isn't very fast these days.

"What are you doing?" he asked. He sounded very calm, which meant that he wasn't calm at all.

"Dr. Watson—"

"Moriarty," Daddy said. The stranger tilted his head.

"Dr. Moriarty," he said. "You and your daughter are coming with me, or she gets a bullet through her head, and you lose that child as well." He pointed at Daddy's tummy with his gun, and I tried to stand in front of it. But Daddy pulled me behind him.

"Why?" he said. "Who sent you?"

"You'll find out soon enough. Come along. Don't bother calling for your driver. He's currently preoccupied."

We had to go out through the back door of the clinic. (It's not a clinic like the one where Daddy usually works, by the way.) There was a car outside, with dark windows. It was a very big car, like the one Mr. Mycroft had. That's what made me think it was him.

"Daddy," I said. "Isn't that the same car as…?"

Daddy shook his head. "I hope not. I really hope not, Clarissa." He squeezed my hand tightly, and looked down at me as the man opened the door. "You know I love you, don't you, angel?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good," he said. He looked in the car first, and there was no one in the back seat. Then he made me get in first, and sat next to me. The door was locked, and we put on our seatbelts. It was a bit difficult for Daddy, since he's so big now. But we got it.

"Damn it," Daddy said as he felt his pockets. "My phone's gone. He must have taken it when he frisked me. I wondered why he didn't say anything. If only your father hadn't confiscated my service revolver as soon as I stopped going on cases with Uncle Sherlock."

I held Daddy's hand. "It'll be okay, Daddy. Bastian's safe, and so is Papa. And Uncle Greg and Uncle Sherlock will find us. Will… will Uncle Sebastian be okay?"

"He said that phone call was from your father," Daddy said. He was looking out the window, but it was too dark to see anything. "Someone must have hacked his phone. Damn. If I wasn't pregnant, or at least not this far along… and if you weren't here… but any counter-attack would be risky. Clarissa, do whatever they say, all right? Promise me, sweetheart. Don't do anything to make them angry, or they might hurt you. We don't know what we're dealing with yet, and until we do, we can't afford any stupid heroics. All right?"

"Yes, Daddy. I promise."

When the car stopped, Daddy tensed up, and I put my hand near the buckle of my seatbelt. There was some kind of movement on the other side of the car. Then the door was pulled open and someone was pushed into the car, nearly falling on top of me. It was Bastian!

"Oh God," Daddy said. The car started moving again, so Bastian quickly did up his seatbelt. Then Daddy reached over and smoothed Bastian's hair down. "Did they hurt you?"

"Not much," Bastian said. He was scowling. "Did they hurt either of you?"

"No," Daddy said. "Just threats." But he touched his bump, and Bastian must have worked out what one of the threats was, because he looked angry.

"They took my phone," he said.

"Mine, too."

"Do you think they'll get Father? Hey. Where's Uncle Sebastian? Did they—"

"We don't know."

I snuggled up to Bastian, but I kept holding Daddy's hand so that he wouldn't feel left out. But I'd been so worried about Bastian.

"What about Miss Molly?" I said. "And Uncle Sherlock?"

"Uncle Sherlock's still with Uncle Greg, I think," Bastian said. "And she only stepped out of the morgue for a minute, to take a call. That's when they took me. So I don't know. I hope she's all right."

Daddy called the bad men something I can't write, because it's a naughty word. I don't know what it means, because Bastian told me that I shouldn't look for it in the dictionary, and I don't think he'd like me writing it. Then Bastian wrapped his arm around me (his other hand was in his pocket), and we tried to work out where we were going from the turns the car took. But then there were too many, and Uncle Sherlock is better at this sort of thing. Daddy said it was probably to make sure that we couldn't work it out.

It went quite a bit darker only a minute before the car stopped and the engine was turned off. Then both of the doors were opened. But Bastian climbed out after us.

"Take the children into that room," someone said. I don't know who it was, but it sounded like a woman. Two of the men took us away from Daddy, even though I kept trying to get back to him. Bastian almost had to carry me.

"I don't want you to get hurt," he whispered. "Or Dad and the baby."

So I stopped trying to get away. But I kept looking back at Daddy, who was saying bad words again.

The room the strangers took us to had a few old computers in it, and glass windows facing the inside, but no windows looking outside. Bastian and I were locked in, but we could still hear what was happening. I kept watching Daddy while Bastian tried to turn on the computers. But they weren't working.

"There's CCTV in this room," he said. I was still looking. There was a woman with dark hair walking up to Daddy, and she held one of those raspberry computers in her hand. Is it raspberry? No. I just asked Bastian, and he says that it's called a blackberry. (I knew it was some kind of berry.)

"What are you doing here?" Daddy asked. "And I swear to God, if you hurt either of my children—"

"We're here for your benefit," the woman said.

"Anthea, or whatever your name is—"

"Yes?"

"…Where is he? I know he'll be around somewhere. Unless you're working for someone else _again_?"

"No, he is here."

"I think I can access it," Bastian said.

"What's that?" I asked.

"The camera. We'll need to disable it somehow, and take the footage with us. Not sure how, though. But you should be out of sight over there." He pointed to the far corner.

"I want to watch Daddy—"

"I'll do that," Bastian said, and he got down from the chair he'd been standing on to look at the camera. "You just call Uncle Sherlock. Do you remember his number?"

"Yes."

"If he doesn't respond, call Uncle Greg. Then Uncle Sebastian, then Miss Molly. Anyone you can think of." Bastian turned slowly, and looked at me. "Clarissa. You didn't take one of their phones. You picked Dad's pocket before they could search him, didn't you?"

"I don't have my own phone. Whoever they are, they'll know that," I said. "So they wouldn't search me."

"I'd kill `em if they tried," Bastian said, scowling again as he looked out the window. "No audio, but speak quietly anyway."

I nodded, and started typing Uncle Sherlock's phone number in.

"Bastian?"

"Yes, Clarissa?"

"How did you know that I had a mobile phone?"

"I could feel it in your pocket when I was carrying you back there."

"Oh."

"Don't worry," Bastian said. "Uncle Sherlock's lessons have helped us more today than they ever have before."

I was just about to press the call button when Bastian hissed.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's Mr. Mycroft. He's here."

Now I'm tired. I will have to write more tomorrow. My hand is aching terribly.

* * *

**Also, I'm a horrible person, so I've ended the chapter there.**

**Please review!**


	16. Sixteenth Entry

"Sixteenth Entry"

Hi!

I'm back from school. We've had dinner, and now I can write some more.

Bastian said that Mr. Mycroft was out there with Daddy. I pressed the call button on the phone.

"What is it, John?" Uncle Sherlock said when he answered. "You know that I prefer to text."

"Uncle Sherlock?"

"Clarissa?" He didn't speak for a second. "What has happened? Where are you? Is Daddy in labour?"

"He took us this time."

"Who d— Is it Mycroft?"

"Yes. He's taken us this time. I don't know what's happened to Uncle Sebastian, and I don't know where Papa is. Bastian and I have been locked in a room."

"We're in a warehouse," Bastian said.

"Bastian says we're in a warehouse. It's quite dark, Uncle Sherlock."

"Very well," Uncle Sherlock said. "Greg, he has them! Did Mycroft say anything to you?"

"What? No, of course not! I would've told you."

"I thought as much. Clarissa?"

"Yes, Uncle Sherlock?"

"Stay on the line. Where were you when Mycroft took you?"

"Well, it wasn't him. It was a man with a gun. But Mr. Mycroft is here."

"Where were you?"

"At Daddy's appointment with the baby doctor."

"Sherlock!" Uncle Greg called. "Moran's on the phone." (Uncle Sebastian's last name is Moran.) "He got knocked out. He can't get in touch with Moriarty."

"Clarissa's on John's phone. Clarissa, where's Daddy?"

"He's not in the room with us. He's—"

"On the floor," Bastian said. "We're in an office."

"He's on the floor," I said. "He's standing up, though. We're in an office, Bastian says. There are computers, and there's a camera. And there's a woman named Anthea. She's with Mr. Mycroft."

"We're on our way. Hang up now, sweetheart. Keep the phone on, so we can track the signal."

"Yes, Uncle Sherlock," I said. Then I did what he said, and put the phone in my pocket so that it wouldn't get lost.

"They haven't said anything yet," Bastian said. He never stopped looking out the window. "Dad's not budging. No one is. Hold on." He tensed, just like Daddy. "I can see something. Almost. Large shape."

"Where?" I asked, and I stood next to him. I couldn't see very well, so Bastian helped me sit on the desk so that I was high enough. There was a loud sound, and then a whole mess of sounds.

"Just there," he said, and he pointed. I could see another car now. Its lights blinked on and off twice. The sounds must have been someone getting out of the car, and then closing the door again. "Looks like a couple of people."

We watched, and then another light came on. Two men had another man between them, and they were dragging him along. There was a bag over his head. But we both knew that suit.

"Papa!" I said. Bastian shushed me. Daddy wasn't facing Papa; but he looked at us, and then he turned around when Papa made a noise. He must have heard us, and was trying to say something.

"James," Daddy said. Papa stopped struggling, and he was pulled in front of Daddy.

"John?" he said. Then he sounded angry. "I see. What an idiot I've turned out to be."

"No, James, please—"

Then a man put a gun against Daddy's head, and whispered something. It wasn't until he aimed the gun at Papa that Daddy knelt on the ground. It took a long time, and the woman named Anthea had to help him.

"You will find that you are mistaken about… being mistaken," Mr. Mycroft said. One of the men pulled the bag off Papa's head, and he looked down at Daddy. They were close enough for me to tell that he looked confused.

"What is this?" he asked.

"I have attempted to contact your husband several times since the failed escape," Mr. Mycroft said. He was twirling his umbrella around in his hand, the pointy bit still on the ground. "He has ignored every communication. I have found that my brother and DI Lestrade are being similarly obstinate."

"Is that so?" Papa said. He was still looking at Daddy, who was staring back, hands on his tummy.

"I told them not to talk to you," Daddy said. I almost couldn't hear it. "Well, asked them, but they promised."

"I thought that this was due to our initial failure," Mr. Mycroft said, as if Daddy hasn't said anything at all. "Your… intervention was unprecedented." (Bastian says that I'm very clever to remember all of these big words.) "But to turn my own family against me?" He clucked his tongue. "It won't do. I am wondering what you have done to inspire such undeserved loyalty. From your children, I could understand. It is easy enough to brainwash unformed minds."

"How dare you!" Papa shouted. "My children are brilliant, far more than most of the people in this room, including you, Mycroft Holmes." He was breathing heavily. "Why are we here?"

Mr. Mycroft kept twirling his umbrella. "We believe that we have gathered a sufficient amount of evidence against you—"

"What evidence?"

"And fabricated enough, I will confess, to incarcerate you with very little trouble. And if the jury requires a little incentive, well." Mr. Mycroft smiled horribly again. "That can easily be arranged."

"You are aware that if you imprison an Alpha, his family has to move into a nearby workhouse for the duration of his… Oh." Papa stepped back. "That's why you were going to arrange for the Bond to be broken. So that they wouldn't…" He looked at us, and then at Daddy. "Clever."

"James," Daddy said. "Don't let them—"

"Of course, imprisonment is not enough reason for a Bond to be broken," Mr. Mycroft said. "Not according to the law."

"No, which is part of what the ORC is trying to change," Papa said.

"Oh, you know about them, do you? I suppose Dr. Watson—"

"Moriarty!" Daddy said loudly. "I am John Moriarty, not Watson."

Papa looked like he wanted to smile. Mr. Mycroft looked cross.

"I suppose he told you that he is a member of the Omega Rights Council," he said to Papa. Papa smirked then.

"I did discover that recently, yes," he said.

"Are you aware of the motives for legally breaking a Bond between an Alpha and an Omega?"

"Vaguely," Papa said.

Mr. Mycroft nodded. "The least damaging to John is still somewhat… harmful. But the charges against an Alpha must be quite serious. Omega abuse is, of course, a very serious matter."

"What?" Daddy said, turning his head to look at Mr. Mycroft. "He's never hurt me, or our children."

"Yes," Mr. Mycroft said slowly. "And it is a pity that it's come to this. However." He moved back, and then I couldn't see what was happening because there was a big man in the way. But Papa almost broke away from the men holding him, and we heard Daddy cry out. Bastian went to the door and tried to break it down. When the big man moved away again, I saw Daddy holding the side of his face.

"You monster!" Papa shouted. "Get the hell away from my husband!"

"This is very simple, Mr. Moriarty," Mr. Mycroft said. "We will release your family, without further harm, if you agree to come with us, dissolve the Bond, and put up no further fuss. There is a jail cell which has had your name on it for a long time."

Daddy was still making noises as though he was in pain. Then one of his hands went around his tummy, and the noises became louder.

"Oh God!" he said. "Something's wrong. Something's… something's wrong. Ah!" And then he bent over.

"What's wrong?" Papa said. He kept trying to get closer to Daddy. "John? Is it the baby?"

"I think so," Daddy said. I could feel my heart beating in my throat. It was horrible.

Mr. Mycroft started to look worried. "Hand yourself over to us, and we'll ensure that your husband and children get to the hospital swiftly."

"What?"

"I said—"

"I know what you… Fine. Get them there safely, give me _proof_ that they're all right, and I'll do whatever you ask."

"No!" Daddy said. "He's the father, and he has to come with me. It's the law."

I'll have to finish this tomorrow. My hand is sore again. I hope I won't be too tired after class tomorrow night.

* * *

**And yet again I leave you with a cliff-hanger! For I am evil.**

**Review, please!**


	17. Seventeenth Entry

"Seventeenth Entry"

Hi!

I hope I can finish writing all about what happened on Saturday tonight, but I might not be able to. I'll try my hardest, though.

Daddy was groaning loudly. Bastian was hitting the door with a chair now. I felt Daddy's phone buzzing, so I went to the corner to answer it.

"Daddy's hurting," I said. "He says there's something wrong with the baby."

"We're nearly there, sweetheart," Uncle Sherlock said. I could hear Uncle Greg and Uncle Sebastian talking. They must have picked him up from the clinic on the way. "What's happening? I can hear something…"

"Bastian's trying to get us out, and the bad men are holding Papa away from Daddy. One of the men here hurt Daddy. Mr. Mycroft said that it's so the Bond can be broken."

"Christ," Uncle Greg said. "Was he going to do that all along? At least Moriarty's never hit John."

"I don't know," Uncle Sherlock said. "Clarissa, can you—"

But that's when Bastian finally broken the lock on the door.

"Uncle Sherlock, I have to go now," I said. "We have to go to Daddy."

"No, Clarissa. Don't do anything idiotic. Clarissa?"

But I pressed the button to stop the call, and followed Bastian into the big part of the warehouse. (That's what he meant when he said Daddy was on the floor.)

"Let me go!" Papa said. Bastian ran into one of the men holding Papa, and Papa hit the other one. I stayed with Daddy, and I kicked Mr. Mycroft's leg when he tried to get close to us. I was glad that we were taking our night lessons, because Mr. Mycroft hit the floor, holding his knee. Anthea knelt beside him. The other men started towards us, but Bastian and Papa kept them away, and I helped when I could.

We didn't have to wait long. The big doors to the warehouse burst open, and the light from outside poured in. The doors opened because Uncle Greg drove straight through them. He was in his ordinary car, but it's very strong. It used to be a police car, and then he painted it over. I put stickers on the dashboard when I was three years old. He likes them very much, and he won't let anyone touch them.

Anyway, Uncle Greg drove around the other car and stopped with a loud screech only a few feet away from us. Uncle Sebastian was on his mobile phone, but then he hung up, and he, Uncle Greg, and Uncle Sherlock all held out guns towards the people we were fighting. They backed away. Then Bastian leaned over Daddy and pulled a phone out of his pocket.

"We've got the whole conversation recorded, Uncle Greg," he said, and he gave him the phone. "Clarissa isn't the only one who can pick pockets."

"We need to get John out of here," Papa said, and he picked Daddy up easily. Which is surprising, because Daddy's so big at the moment. Daddy was still holding his tummy and moaning. He was terribly pale. Uncle Sherlock stood in front of Mr. Mycroft.

"I'm ashamed to think that we're related at all," he said. "I'd gladly face prison if it meant I could shoot you, right now, for harming my family."

"Don't do it, Sherlock," Uncle Greg said, and he started to push Uncle Sherlock away.

"You would defect to Moriarty's _team_?" Mr. Mycroft said, and he sneered. "It is I who should be ashamed to call you brother."

Then Uncle Greg walloped him right across the jaw, and Mr. Mycroft fell over again.

"There's more room in this one," Bastian said, and Papa put Daddy inside the big car we'd come in. Then another car zoomed into the warehouse. It was more of the people who work for Papa. Uncle Sebastian said he'd stay with them, and one of them got into the front of the car, and started it up. Uncle Greg said that he'd lead the way in his car, and put the special police light on top. Uncle Sherlock got into the black car with us, still aiming his gun at Mr. Mycroft until the door was shut.

I curled up into Bastian's side, riding backwards, while Papa held Daddy, making him lie down on the seat going forward. Uncle Sherlock was on the other side of me, but staring out the window.

"I can take that now, sweetie," Daddy said, holding out his hand. Now I could see his face properly. There was a cut across his left eyebrow, and there was a big bruise on that side of his face.

"No," Papa said. "Clarissa, hold onto that phone. Daddy doesn't need it."

"James—"

"Stay where you are. Jesus, can't this car go any faster?"

"Uncle Greg's siren is on," I said. Papa sighed.

"I know, my angel," he said. "But there's something wrong with the baby, so we can't get there fast enough. Do you see?"

"James," Daddy said, trying to sit up again. "There isn't anything wrong. I got hit, and that's all. Sherlock, call Greg. Tell him we're going home. Our home, not Baker Street. I won't have the medical staff thinking that my Alpha is abusive towards me."

"You were complaining of abdominal pains," Papa said. (I thought he meant abominable, but that's a different word.) "If the child—"

"I… I lied."

Papa didn't say anything for a minute. None of us said anything. Uncle Sherlock was the only one who moved, and that was only his head, so that he could look at Daddy.

"Why?" Papa said. "Why would you… you… Don't ever do that to me again!" He ran his hand through his hair. "God above, I thought something was wrong. I thought you were losing it. I thought—"

"I had to get us out of there. I didn't know how close we were to being rescued. If it could have gotten us all out safely, I was willing to do anything."

Papa's head drooped, and he stroked Daddy's hair. "Stay lying down anyway. You need the rest."

I don't know what happened next, because I fell asleep. I don't know whether Daddy did. But I was very tired. And now we were safe, and we were going home.

My hand is sore now. It's because of class tonight. Our teacher was very happy when we told him what we did to protect Daddy and Papa. I'd told my friends after we got home, and Bastian woke me up. But I told them everything at school yesterday, and they thought it was the scariest thing. I don't think it's going to happen again, though. Papa said that he won't let it happen again.

* * *

**Well, I wasn't expecting the chapter to be this short, but meh. That particular drama is over.**

**Only three chapters left, so please review! It feeds the author. (I have very low self-esteem, so I need all the help I can get.)**


	18. Eighteenth Entry

"Eighteenth Entry"

Hi!

Bastian said that my diary is very good. He only read the last three entries, because he says that you're not supposed to let other people read your diary. But he said that maybe Daddy could use some of it if he writes a blog story about this. Also, Uncle Greg could use it in his report. Bastian was very clever to think of making sure that he recorded everything. But Bastian has always been clever.

It's Friday, and Uncle Greg, Uncle Sherlock, and Uncle Sebastian all came over for dinner. We had ice cream for dessert. It was left over from when I had my cold. It feels like it happened a long time ago.

"If the child's a boy, we're naming him 'Greg'," Papa said, pointing at Uncle Greg with his spoon. Uncle Greg raised his eyebrows. "The way you decked Mycroft Holmes will live in infamy. Besides." He glanced at Uncle Sherlock. "No child of mine will ever have a name like Sherlock."

Daddy chuckled. Uncle Sherlock grinned at him.

"It was remarkable, wasn't it?" he said. "I made sure to reward Greg most… handsomely when we went home."

Uncle Greg frowned, but it looked like he was trying not to smile. He often looks like that around Uncle Sherlock.

"Child-friendly," Daddy said, and I think he kicked Uncle Sherlock under the table. I couldn't tell.

But when I dropped my spoon, I had to duck under the table to get it. And I could see Daddy's foot hooking around Papa's leg. I picked up my spoon, and when I was sitting in place again, I saw that Papa looked surprised.

After everyone else left, and it was just Bastian, Papa, Daddy, and me, Papa told Daddy to go and rest. The baby is supposed to be born in less than three weeks. When we finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher, Bastian went to fetch his homework. I couldn't find my puzzles at first. When I had them, I went back to the living room. But on the way I could hear Daddy and Papa in their bedroom.

"You call me if you need anything, anything at all," Papa said. The door was halfway open, and I saw that Daddy was holding his phone.

"Yes, Jim."

Papa stopped moving, and he was still bent over.

"What did you call me?" he said.

Daddy took a deep breath. "I called you 'Jim'," he said. "Because it's your name."

Papa stood up straight. "It's just… it's just that it confuses me. _You_ confuse me, John. For over thirteen years – nearly fourteen, not including those months before we met – you have hated me. You called me by my— our last name until recently. I don't understand!"

Daddy leaned forward, or at least as much as he could. "It's really quite simple."

"Well, I'm sorry if I'm not genius enough to pick it up! Explain it to me, John. I know, I know as well as anyone, that there's little humanity in me. I've always been like that, and it's why most people hate me."

"Jim—"

"Let me finish! No one would ever think me capable of love, but I have three – soon four – examples, and you… _you_, who care so much about other people that you became a doctor and joined the army… why can't you love me the way I love you, John? Just… _why_? I've tried so hard, for _years_! I even thought I was getting somewhere, and then it all turned out to be a lie. Now I don't know what to think."

"I've said I was sorry about colluding with Mycroft the first time," Daddy said. "And I swear, after I saw how you reacted, and realised that you do care… I began to care. For you. And your reaction when you confronted me… when you knew about it… That's when I realised that you loved me. It nearly killed me when I thought about how much I'd hurt you. I didn't even have to imagine myself in your shoes to feel that pain."

"You've known…" Papa shook his head, mouth still open. "All this time, you've known that I'm in love with you?"

"W-well." Daddy was wringing his hands. "I thought you hated me after that. I could see what I'd lost, even though I kept trying to get it back. If it wasn't for the children, I would have left, just so I'd stop hurting you. I'm so sorry. But you don't… you don't hate me now, do you?"

Papa dropped to his knees in front of Daddy.

"I never stopped loving you, even when I hated you," he said, and he held Daddy's hands. "I fell in love with you when Bastian was only a few years old. Two or three at the most."

"Oh God." I think Daddy was crying. He touched Papa's cheek. "Oh God, James. I had no idea. Please forgive me."

Papa laughed softly. "After all I've done to you, it should be the other way around, shouldn't it?"

Then Daddy lifted Papa's chin up, and he kissed him. It was a grown-up kiss, one on the mouth. When the kiss stopped, Daddy moved back a little. Papa looked dazed, like Dopey in _Snow White_. Daddy smiled at him. And then Papa smiled back. His smile was so big that it took up half of his face. And then they hugged.

I was so happy that I squealed. I think Papa and Daddy looked at me. But I ran to the living room and told Bastian. He had to know that his wish had come true.

See? There really are miracles.

Time for bed now. I'm going to put lots of love heart stickers on today's entry.

* * *

**Too right!**

**When I wrote the story notes, I wrote part of Jim's speech, which has been added to this verbatim. From 'No one would ever' to 'I've tried so hard, for years'. All in the original story notes.**

**Two chapters remaining now, peeps! So please ready yourselves for last minute reviews.**


	19. Nineteenth Entry

"Nineteenth Entry"

Hi!

I didn't know how sad things were at home. Not until now. Now Daddy and Papa smile at each other nearly all the time. Papa holds Daddy when we're watching the TV, and they laugh together.

And now the baby is here! Daddy was sewing some buttons onto one of Papa's shirts. I asked why so many buttons were off. He smiled, and said that sometimes Papa isn't very careful when taking his clothes off. I said that that was silly. He said that sometimes Papa could be silly. But then Daddy nearly pricked his finger. Papa was out at work, I think.

"Are you okay, Daddy?" I said. We were waiting for Papa to come home. It was Friday. I'm not writing as often as I should, but Daddy said that I don't have to write every day if I don't want to.

"Fine," Daddy said. But he wasn't exactly smiling. It was more of a grimace. That's what Bastian says it was. We were using the dining table, because it was easier for Daddy to sit down.

"You sure, Dad?" Bastian asked.

Daddy nodded. But his hands were shaking while he sewed on the rest of the buttons.

"Your father's going to be home soon," Daddy said after he finished sewing. "I'm going to get Uncle… Uncle, uh…" He made that face again. "No. We'll wait. Let's get dinner ready. Bastian, let your father in as soon as he gets home, all right? Clarissa, could you put your puzzles away, and then move all of this down to the other… other end of the table?" He packed up the sewing kit. "Bastian, after dinner, make sure you and Clarissa are packed. You're going to spend the night with Uncle Sherlock and Uncle Greg. Maybe more than one night, but we'll… get there when we get there. Right?"

"Yes, Dad," Bastian said.

"Yes, Daddy," I said.

"Good. Go on."

When I was finished, I helped Daddy in the kitchen. He couldn't bend over at all anymore, and he kept rubbing his back. While he stirred something on the stove, I rubbed his back for him. It felt like hours before we heard the front door open and close. Bastian said something to Papa, and Papa ran into the kitchen.

"How far apart?" he said.

"Getting closer, but not close enough yet," Daddy said.

"What's happening, Daddy?" I said.

Papa made Daddy sit down while he finished making dinner. Bastian helped.

"By late tonight… maybe early tomorrow… you're going to be a big sister," Daddy said. I jumped up and down.

"Really? The baby's coming?"

"Not quite yet," Daddy said. He stroked my hair. I don't know why people like to do that so much. "But soon. Papa will drive me to the hospital after dinner, and Uncle Sebastian will take you to Baker Street. Will you go and pack your bag, angel?"

"Let's go, Clarissa," Bastian said, and he took my hand.

After dinner, I put the dishes in the dishwasher while Bastian fetched our bags. Papa got Daddy's bag for staying at the hospital, and Daddy called our uncles. Not long after, Uncle Sebastian arrived, and everything moved very fast. Uncle Greg let us stay up late, while Uncle Sherlock paced around the room. I fell asleep, but Bastian woke me up at eleven o'clock to tell me that we had a baby sister.

"What did they name her?" I asked.

"I don't know. But we're going to visit her tomorrow."

I was sleepy, but Bastian says that I said it was a good thing tomorrow was Saturday.

It's Saturday, so we went to the hospital. Papa was there, sleeping in a chair next to Daddy's bed. He was holding his hand. Daddy woke up first, and beamed at us.

"Hello," he said softly. Then he pressed a button at the end of a cord. "Want to meet your new sister?"

"Yes, please!" I said. Daddy tried to shush me, but Papa woke up anyway. He rubbed the back of his neck, and smiled when he saw us.

"Hi," he said.

Then a nurse came into the room, and Daddy asked if she could please bring the baby. She only took a few minutes, and then wheeled in a small bed. Papa picked her up, and sat on the edge of Daddy's bed. He let Bastian and me look at her. She had dark hair, like Papa. But when she opened her eyes to look at us, we saw that they're the same colour as Daddy's eyes.

"What's her name, Father?" Bastian said.

Papa smirked. I saw him look at Uncle Greg. He and Uncle Sherlock were with us.

"We named her Greer," he said. Uncle Greg rolled his eyes. I giggled.

"Do I need to ask?" Uncle Greg said. Daddy started laughing, and so did Uncle Sherlock.

"Ask what?" Papa asked. His eyes were wide. I realised that he was trying to look innocent. "We didn't name her Greg."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Oh, leave him alone," Daddy said, poking Papa. But he was still grinning. "Her name is Greer Quinn."

"Quinn is Papa's middle name."

"That's right, Clarissa. And Hamish is my middle name, just like Bastian."

I nodded. Papa let both of us hold Greer, and then Uncle Greg and Uncle Sherlock. Uncle Sebastian wasn't there, because he was busy looking after Papa's business while he was at the hospital with us. Auntie Harry was going to visit later.

"There's a guard in place," Uncle Sherlock said. "Moriarty— Jim, you must rest. Are Bastian and Clarissa staying with us for the next few nights?"

"No," Papa said. "I can look after them. Thank you, Ho— Sherlock. Greg."

"You're welcome," Uncle Greg said, and he patted Papa's shoulder. "Congratulations, both of you. Hope you can go home soon, John."

"Thanks, Greg."

So now I'm a big sister, and I can help Daddy and Papa and Bastian look after her. I've never been happier than I am right now.

* * *

**Greer was best name I could find that was a female name, and related to 'Greg'. I eventually settled on Quinn because I needed a unisex name of Irish origin, since Bastian's middle name (presuming I haven't already mentioned it) is Hamish, and Clarissa's middle name is Angel. Once I work out the reason, I'll explain it in the prequel. Plenty of things will happen then.**

**Only the last chapter to go. Hurrah! Please review, m'dears.**


	20. Twentieth Entry

"Twentieth Entry"

Well, hello there.

Good God, it's been a long time. I can't believe I only kept a diary for a couple of months. Well, Dad's the writer in the family. Still, it's great that I have this record of a time of significant change in our family. The most significant time, when I come to think about it.

There have been more changes, of course. Ten years is a long time. Far too long even to give a précis of what's been going on. I guess the bare facts will have to do.

Greer's nearly ten now, and going to the same school Bastian and I attended. She wants to take horse-riding lessons. She's the age I was when I started, but she definitely seems to be more serious about it than I was. If she puts her mind to it, she'll probably make it to the Olympics by 2040.

I still ride, and Father's arranging for my horse to be stabled near the university. Yep. I've just finished high school, and I'm all set to go to Oxford. I'll be studying law, with a minor in criminology. Dad thinks it's hilarious, Father's still reeling from the shock (and bemusement, it's important to note), Uncle Sebastian just keeps saying that he's proud of me, Uncle Greg has offered any help I need, and Uncle Sherlock… well, let's just say that he says while it isn't necessary, I'd at least raise the collective IQ of Oxford University.

I don't know why he's worried. None of them should be worried, because Bastian's already there. He's studying medicine. After high school, he travelled for a year, scoping out some of the poorer countries on the ORC's behalf. Dad's still a member, and Father's still funding and helping them. We're not far off obtaining equal rights in Great Britain, but there are many countries without that kind of support. So Bastian's going to be starting his fifth year when I start my first.

It's been a long time since I saw him. The last time… I think the last time was my thirteenth or fourteenth birthday. He's been so busy studying and getting in his work experience. His aim is to achieve his doctorate early, and then go and help people overseas. He won't be joining the army like Dad, thank God. I worry about Bastian all the time. Mind you, it'll be his turn to worry when I finish uni. I'm aiming to become a human rights lawyer. My main work will be for the Omega Rights Council. I've always wanted to follow in Father's footsteps.

June turned nine a couple of months ago, and she really takes after her dads. She turned out to be a Beta. She and Greer are great friends, and sometimes we can't get Greer off the phone when she's talking to June. June doesn't know what she wants to do when she grows up, but I'm sure she'll be brilliant. Look at her parents!

You know, looking back over my diary entries, I can almost remember what it was like when I was seven, and before. Kids are supposed to be good at picking up on emotions. It looks like I could, but I couldn't put them into words. Or I was too busy enjoying the view through rose-tinted glasses that I never recognised that I was being distracted by pretty much everyone in my family, even Bastian. He's always been my protector. I definitely knew that then.

So, I'm seventeen, and headed for Oxford. I think I'll take this diary with me, like a lucky charm. Maybe I'll actually get around to adding to it. If nothing else, when things seem to be at their worst, I just need to crack it open and read that things can always get better, and remember that I'm loved. More to the point, that Father and Dad love each other. Seems like it took long enough.

I wonder whether I'll ever find an Alpha like Father? Not exactly like him; I could do without all the behind-the-scenes crime consultancy. No. I mean someone who respects Omega rights, and will let me be whatever I want to be. Someone who'll understand that family comes first for me, because my family has always put me first. Even though it's 2027, there are still a lot of Alphas out there who aren't like that.

Well, I can't think of anything else to write. Actually, there are a thousand and one things I could write; but I'm not going to. I'm going to leave this here, and instead dream of Oxford, and what the rest of my life is going to be like.

For now, goodbye.

THE END

* * *

**On the day I was born, Mum had been making curtains for me. And I was born on a Friday night, between 10 and 11. I can never remember the precise time. Also, my sister was seven, just like Clarissa is seven. (And my first name is really Grace, but it would've just been weird if I'd used that. Besides, Greer is closer in meaning, according to Behind the Name.)**

**This is obviously set not long before the sequel. But I'm a horrible person, so I'm going to write the prequel first, and make you wait. Oops. *Looks innocent* If it's any consolation, I've finished writing chapter two.**

**Please review!**


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